


Little Shop of Lies

by SallyLovette



Series: Things We Leave Behind [1]
Category: Toy Story (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Love Triangles, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2019-11-07 07:18:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 21,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17956052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SallyLovette/pseuds/SallyLovette
Summary: Bo Peep and Buzz Lightyear compete for a certain cowboy’s affections, to the point that the fact of his (most recent) kidnapping and/or need of rescue takes something of a backseat.Or, my take on Toy Story 4.





	1. Role Reversal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonnie's way of playing is different than Andy's.

When Bonnie made Woody the damsel in distress, everyone thought it was funny. After playtime, they laughed while Woody blushed, rubbing his neck, avoiding their gazes. 

“All right, all right,” he mumbled, then tried to play it off like he didn’t mind, giving them all a cheerful wink, his best attempt to make light of the situation. “Hey, I can’t be the hero every time, right?”

Which ends up being way more true than he (or any of them, for that matter) would have thought. There's just something about him— the smile, the brown eyes, the rosy cheeks— that seems to strike Bonnie, on a very consistent basis, as less than heroic. Dubbing him “His Royal Majesty, Prince of Planet Texas,” she gives him lines such as, "help me, Buzz Lightyear!" or "you'll never get away with this! Buzz Lightyear will stop you!" 

Of course, Buzz is always the one to save him. It's bizarre. He's used to playing the hero, sure, but always as a team. Now their dynamic is less "Batman and Robin" and more "Lois Lane and Superman,” with Woody in his arms more often than at his side. And yeah, sometimes he'll lend a hand, a bullet here and a lasso there, riding in on Bull's-Eye to catch Buzz at the last possible second after he's thrown from something high-up— clouds and skyscrapers— even though, as Woody points out later, "you have wings. You can _fly_."

Buzz raises a brow. "I thought you said I couldn't fly."

Woody rolls his eyes. "You can't, really, but if it’s just playtime, why would I need to catch you? It makes no sense."

"It makes sense to Bonnie."

And the conversation probably would've ended on a much lighter note if Woody hadn't unthinkingly said, "I like Andy's way better," pitching them both into an awkward silence.

To be fair, Bonnie's way is weird, if only because it's not what they're used to. None of them ever considered that, with a new kid, playtime could change so drastically. 

"This generation of kids is complete garbage," Mr. Potato head is always saying. "Their parents are a bunch of kale-munching weirdos. That's why Bonnie's like this."

"Like what?" Jessie, the only one of them ever to have had more than one owner, rolls her eyes. "She's just playing. It's fine."

"You're telling me you like being the Empress of Evil?"

"Yeah.” She gives the potato a withering look. “So?"

Whether she likes it or not, Jessie is the bad guy these days. Woody's only fought her once, back when they used to not get along, but even then, he never thought of her as his enemy. It's kind of funny to think about. She has a feisty side, sure, but Empress of Evil? Come on.

"How is that any funnier than the Nefarious Doctor Pork Chop?” Buzz asks, genuinely puzzled, when Woody tells him this. 

“I don’t know. It just is.”

This is directly after the most recent playtime, where Woody was kidnapped, for the fifth time this week, by Jessie, then rescued by Buzz, whom he rewarded, also for the fifth time this week, with a shower of kisses, smack on the lips.

"You're my hero," Bonnie said in her approximation of Woody's voice (he doesn't have a Southern accent, has never had one as long as Buzz has known him) and tapped their faces together repeatedly, making "mwah, mwah" noises. Woody and Buzz have yet to remark on it to each other. Instead, they stick to easier topics, such as why Buzz can’t fly with his spacesuit wings or why Jessie can’t be taken seriously as an antagonist. 

“Where does she come up with this stuff?” 

“You’re just used to being played with by... you know.”

Woody sighs, chin in both hands, elbows on his knees, eyes flicking up to the ceiling in annoyance or melancholy or maybe both. “You can say Andy.” 

“Right.” Even given permission, Buzz isn’t sure if he can; he shapes his tongue carefully around the name, aiming it towards the floor, away from his friend, as if it’s something sharp that might hurt him. “Andy.” 

“I miss him.” It’s the first time Woody has explicitly said the words. Buzz doesn’t know how to respond. Apart from “I know,” so cheap and stale, not to mention inconsiderate, what else is there to say? Buzz loved Andy, but everyone knows he and Woody had something special. It hasn’t been easy for him, any of this. Bonnie plays with them, gives them somewhere to live, but her house isn’t home. It’s not the same. The simple fact is, no one’s ever going to love them the way Andy did— with all his heart, as if, somehow, he knew they were alive.

Buzz can live without Andy. But he’s starting to wonder, in a brows-creased, wide-awake-at-night sort of way, if Woody is ever going to be able to do the same.

Woody looks over at him and smiles. “I’m being a downer.” 

Buzz smiles, too. “You’re fine.” He glances down, is about to bring up the kiss, but then Woody gets up. 

“I’m gonna go see Slink.” 

“Have fun losing at checkers.” 

“Ha-ha, good one.” He gives Buzz a playful smack. Usually a gesture like that would lighten the mood, but in this case, they go awkwardly quiet, each avoiding the other’s gaze, until Woody walks off and Buzz is left alone, acutely aware of the spot where Woody just touched him (the smooth white armor of his shoulder) and the spot on his mouth where, earlier, Woody’s lips had been. The taste of vinyl isn’t half as bad as he would have guessed. 

Not that he’s ever thought about it before.


	2. Accidents and Mistakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Woody struggles to move on, Buzz struggles with a confession, and Jessie gives them her best advice.

Bonnie always sleeps with Buttercup. The rest of her toys she puts in the chest or leaves scattered around the house at night. On one memorable occasion, she left Buzz outside. They had to let him back in through the dog door, wet with rain and smelling of woodchips and earth. 

After making sure he wasn’t hurt (“fine, fine— guys, really, I’m fine—”), they dried him off with a hand towel. “Don’t,” he protested, embarrassed, cheeks pink from the fuss they were making over him. “Mom will notice.” 

“No, she won’t, Buzz. Now hold still.” Jessie attacked him with the towel until his spacesuit gleamed, getting under his arms, behind his ears, even between his legs. Aside from being a blatant invasion of personal space (a concept Jessie didn’t understand), it tickled really bad. Buzz had to struggle not to laugh. 

Afterward, Woody walked in a circle around him, whistling softly. “About time you got a bath.” He leaned on him in that way that he does, using his shoulder as an armrest. “I hosed you off, but you never really stopped smelling like garbage.” 

“Go to hell.”

The three of them spent the night in the mudroom. It was actually kind of fun, like a sleepover. They whispered and giggled amongst themselves, too quietly for anyone upstairs to hear. Around dawn, when the rain stopped, Buzz went back out to the swing set. After all, toys don't get up and walk away all by themselves.

"Do you have to go?" Jessie clung to his hand. "Just come upstairs. Bonnie will think mom found you."

"We can't risk it." Buzz smiled at her. "I'll see you this afternoon."

"But it's so wet out," Jessie pleaded. Woody was holding the door open, gazing out into the yard. 

"She's right," he said. "You're gonna catch a cold."  

"Woody, it's fine."

"Maybe you should stay."

He looked so concerned, it was touching. Buzz gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"Don't worry. I like the fresh air." He winked. "Summer doesn't last all year, right? Gotta enjoy it while you can."

Woody stared at him for a moment, then smiled. "Yeah, well. Don't have too much fun without us."

"Not a chance."

They couldn’t blame Bonnie for forgetting about him. She’s just a little kid. It was an accident. Still, Woody could feel the words on the tip of his tongue: “Andy would never leave one of us outside.” 

To his credit, he managed not to actually say it, even though the look on his face said plenty. Buzz went outside and Jessie took Woody’s hand, pulling him toward the stairs.

“Are all boys as ticklish as the two of you?” She whispered as they climbed, boosting each other in turn.

“It’s warm out,” Woody said, as if he hadn’t heard her. “He’ll be fine. I just, I don’t know. It’s gotta be lonely. Not to mention upsetting.”

“He said he didn’t care. Just forget about it, okay? We can’t do anything, and he’ll be back in a few hours anyway.”

“I feel like he's been acting weird.”

“Weirder than you?”

“What do you mean, weirder than me?” Bless his soul, he actually looked surprised. Jessie faltered, then sighed.

“Look, Woody. You’ve been the head of our family for fifteen years. People look up to you, and they can tell when you’re not okay.”

Woody flushed. “I don’t—”

“It’s fine if you need time to adjust, but like.” She turned to haul herself up onto the next step. “Sometimes I get the feeling you don’t even want to.”

“That’s not true.”

“I know, but—”

“I miss him, okay? I miss Andy. There’s no use denying it.” He rested his chin on the next step, looking like a dejected puppy. “I just need a little more time. That’s all.”

Jessie hesitated, then knelt down so that they were nose to nose. “We’re all here for you, you know.” She kissed his forehead. “I love you.”

He smiled, finally. “I love you, too.” 

The next day, as soon as she got the chance, Jessie flung herself into Buzz’s arms. He lifted her up and spun her around. “Miss me?” 

“Not as much as the sheriff did.”

“Really?” The look of happiness that sprang to his face left nothing up to assumption. He must have realized it, because he dropped his eyes and coughed into his fist. “I mean, uh. I missed him, too.” Wow. That was really lame. Avoiding the urge to facepalm as Jessie smiled wryly at him, he stammered, “I— uh, what I mean to say is—” 

“Buzz!” Woody came up to him, slapped his back. “Good to have you back, partner.”

Buzz’s blush intensified. He stammered out a string of “uh”s and “I”s, as incomprehensible as if he was speaking Spanish, until Woody’s look of curiousity snapped him out of it. “Good to be back,” he finally managed. Woody smiled again. 

“Had your fill of the outdoors?” 

“For now.” 

“Good. It’s not the same here without you.” 

“I was gone for one night, Woody.” 

“Well, I missed you.”

It went quiet. Jessie disentangled herself from Buzz’s arms. “I’m gonna go see what Trixie’s up to,” she said, shooting Buzz a sly grin and a flurry of winks, before leaving them alone. Buzz couldn’t think of what to say for a minute, though he knew Woody was waiting on him. Finally, eyes downcast, he laughed and said, “I think the lack of sleep is getting to me. I feel...”

He could end that sentence a lot of ways. Woody prompted, “it’s okay. You can admit you missed me, too.” 

Buzz hesitated, then took the plunge. “You know how we’ve been... kissing a lot?”

Woody’s smile faded. He didn’t say anything. 

“Uh... nevermind.” 

“It’s just playtime, Buzz.” 

Buzz’s cheeks were flaming, his heart hammering. “I know, but—” 

They were interrupted by the electrifying half-shout, half-whisper of “Bonnie’s coming!” Then it was a scramble as everyone took their places. Buzz’s heart hammered as he lay stock-still, wondering if he’d just made a serious mistake.


	3. Petty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth comes out, a kiss is shared, the moon is stared at. Things are looking up.

Warm air and cricket sounds float through the window. Woody hears the distinctive creak of the toy chest being opened, then the quiet thump of plastic feet against the hardwood floor. He sits up and turns his head. Buzz is gone.

He sighs, then, as quietly as possible, climbs out of the chest and creeps into the hallway. Looks left, then right. Hesitates, then hisses, "Buzz."

No response. Woody rolls his eyes, goes to the bathroom, climbs the shower curtain onto the windowsill and sticks his head out of the window. Sure enough, Buzz is sitting there on the roof, gazing up into the black, star-speckled sky. 

"What are you doing? It's the middle of the night." Woody carefully makes his way over and sits next to him, giving him a wry look that is rather sadly wasted, as it’s dark and Buzz isn't even looking at him (in fact, if he didn’t know better, Woody would say he was avoiding his gaze intentionally). "Think you could be a little louder next time?"

"I was quiet."

"Yeah, as a steam locomotive."

Buzz looks down at his space boots. "I wanted to talk to you."

Woody leans back on his palms and stretches his legs out, like they're relaxing on the beach instead of sneaking around behind everyone's backs. "Yeah, I figured." 

"About what I said..."

"Buzz, you don't have to—"

"I really like you. I like kissing you."

Woody falters. "I know."

"I just had to tell you. I don't care if you don't like me back. We've been through a lot together, you and I, and I just have to say it this one time. You mean the world to me."

Woody smiles faintly, flicks an invisible speck of dust off his badge. "I know." 

"You're very attractive."

Woody smiles wider, jokes, “don't say that kind of stuff. I'll get a big head."

"An even bigger one, you mean? You always were vain. And petty. When you get jealous? Oh, my god.”

"Hey." This conversation took a turn. Woody liked it better when he was being complimented.

"It's true. I love you anyway, of course, but man. You can be really scary sometimes.”

“I never meant—” Woody’s smile fades. “That is, I never could have hurt you. Really. I was upset, and—”

“I know that. Woody.” Buzz looks at him earnestly. “That’s all in the past. I don’t fault you for any of it— nobody does. Goodness knows, you’ve saved my life plenty of times since then.” 

Woody smiles again, just slightly. “And you, mine.”

Buzz smiles, too. “We’re a pretty good team.”

"The greatest."

They stare at each other for a moment, then Buzz looks at his boots and Woody at his badge, tilting it so that the shiny surface glints in the moonlight. "You mean the world to me, too, y'know."

Buzz is quiet, and Woody can tell he's on the edge of his seat. He sighs and looks up at the sky.

"I wish..." He hesitates, then finishes his thought, not because it has anything to do with anything, but because he's already started it. It’s a thought that plagues him, chases him, finds him in less than ideal situations. This one, for example. "I wish some things could go back to the way they used to be."

Buzz frowns, studying him, not understanding.  "Like what?"

Woody shrugs. "A lot of things. Everything, pretty much. Like, what's going to happen to us when Bonnie's grown up? How long do we get to live for, really?"

"We were talking about you and me."

"I like you too, you stupid space ranger."

Buzz doesn't say anything, but Woody can tell from the look on his face that his heart is soaring. He stifles a laugh. 

"Of course I like you. What did you think?"

"I don't know." Buzz isn't just happy; he's exulting. No doubt he must have convinced himself Woody was as straight as a line. It makes sense. He's been with Bo for about as far back as he could remember. Definitely since before Buzz could remember. But then again, he's never met anyone like Buzz before.

It's silent for a while, crickets chirping. Woody decides to go out on a limb. “We could, maybe... you know.”

Buzz chooses his words carefully and comes off sounding about as innocent as a schoolboy, which Woody is sure wasn’t his intention, but damned if it isn’t adorable. "Be more than a team?" 

"Well, yeah."

"It's because of Bonnie. All those times I got to kiss you. I never thought about you— or _any_ man, for that matter— in _that way_ before, but..." 

Woody can tell the poor fellow is about to start babbling, so he scoots over. Their hands touch and Buzz stiffens, turning his head so that they lock gazes. 

"I— uhh—"

"You've got to be the cutest spaceman on this side of the Milky Way."

Buzz turns pink, then seems to relax, lifting a coy eyebrow. "You're not so bad yourself, cowboy."

Woody kisses his chin, then touches his cheek. The next thing he knows, they're making out as if they've done it a thousand times, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Woody straddles Buzz’s legs and pushes him back so that he’s laying down. Buzz jerks beneath him; his spacesuit wings had snapped open inadvertently, without warning. Woody gasps and pulls back. They stare at each other for a moment. Then Woody cracks up, dropping his head into Buzz’s chest, putting a hand on his mouth to stifle the sound. Buzz blushes and sits up. 

“Sorry— accident.”

Woody doesn’t answer. He’s too busy laughing. Buzz watches him for a moment, then leans in and starts to pepper his neck with kisses. To his surprise, Woody pushes him roughly away, gripping the collar of his spacesuit tightly in one hand while wiping a tear with the other.

“Ticklish.”

“Oh, yeah?” 

“Don’t.” Woody stops him before he can try anything. Their lips meet, and this time, it’s much longer before they break apart. “Y’know, if you had any sort of backbone, we could’ve done this a lot sooner,” Woody remarks. 

“I got there eventually, didn’t I?” 

Woody can’t argue that, so instead he closes his eyes, rests his forehead against Buzz’s, and mutters, “stupid space toy.” 

“Dumb cowboy.”


	4. Reset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things were supposed to be perfect. Buzz finally confessed his feelings, and Woody reciprocated, and they kissed, and it was magical. It should've been happily ever after.
> 
> So why isn't it?

To be Woody's other half is a unique experience. That's the only way Buzz can describe it. 

"I know your trust is a hard-earned thing," he'd said to him once, and it was too true. The process (which, at the time, they’d both entered unknowingly) of becoming friends was a whirlwind of jealousy, resentment, and near-death. Things could have gone so wrong, so easily.

Where would Buzz be today, if it wasn’t for Woody? Still rambling into the sticker on his arm as if it actually served a function, as if Star Command was real and could answer. Still working for that evil teddy bear at the daycare, surrounded by toys he had no way of knowing were once his friends. 

Buzz knows he was never the only one afflicted by ignorance. Those battle-dino-whatevers of Mason's sure as hell weren't the sharpest knives in the drawer. But Buzz Lightyear action figures were always particularly susceptible, to the point of being defective. They come out of the box thinking they're real spacemen. They're easy to reprogram, easy to manipulate, easy to control.

Woody doesn't have a demo mode or a reset button. Neither does Jessie, nor Rex, nor Potato Head, nor any of the others. It's just Buzz. 

Sometimes he wonders if it’s his own fault. Maybe he’s just an idiot. It certainly feels like it, sometimes. “They’re called s’mores, Buzz.” “It’s Hawaii, Buzz.” “You’re gonna chip a wing if you jump off that thing, Buzz.”

Buzz did chip a wing, because Woody is always right. Fifteen years, and he’s never once been wrong, not that Buzz can remember, anyway— not in any way he could possibly see as important. 

And that really makes him wonder. Because, as it turns out, it's really easy for everything you've ever known to be a lie. So what if Woody’s lying to him, too? Buzz supposes he'd never know. The thought should be worrisome, but he figures that if this particular delusion involves living in the safe haven that is Bonnie's room, protecting and serving his loved ones with a cute cowboy at his side, smiling at him in that way that he does, hat tilted just so as he winks and says, "all right, there, partner?"

Well, such a delusion can’t be all bad.

Not that he considers this— his life— to be a delusion. It’s just the awareness of he fact that it _could_  be. Even though it’s not. Which he’s certain of. He knows what’s real. 

“I know what’s real,” he says out loud. Woody looks at him weird. “I do,” he insists. 

“Are you okay?” Woody asks, looking uncertain. “Is this about— y’know, when you used to be all...?” 

 _I think the word you’re looking for is space ranger_.

“No.” 

“Maybe you should lay off the cartoons for a few weeks.” 

“Why am I the only one who...” Eloquent words fail him. “Ugh, you know.” 

Woody answers carefully. “Who thought you were human? I don’t know. Maybe it has something to do with having your own franchise.” 

“But you had a TV show and you never...” 

There’s a silence during which Woody stares at his boots, tilting them this way and that as if inspecting for dirt (there’s none). A thought occurs to Buzz that never had before, and he’s certain he’ll never look at Woody the same way again if it’s true. “Wait. You didn’t, did you?” 

“I doubt it.” 

“Can’t you remember?” 

“Not really.” 

“Oh.” 

“It would have been a long time ago. I’m old.” 

“I can’t imagine you being... like that.” 

“What are you thinking about this stuff for, anyway?” 

“I don’t know.” Buzz hesitates. “Is there a reason why you’ve been so distant?” He rushes on before Woody can respond. “Since last time, I mean. When we kissed on the roof.” 

“Keep your voice down,” Woody says, and, just like that, Buzz has his answer. He should have known. It was so obvious. 

“You don’t want people to know about us?” Woody falters, but his face tells Buzz that he’s right on the money. “Why?” 

“It’s not that I— I just— I don’t—” 

“Can you spit it out? If you don’t want to be with me, you could have just said that from the start instead of leading me on and—”

“I’m not trying to lead you on. I just haven’t been doing so well, what with everything, and... it’s a little hard to focus. On you. And I don’t want people... getting in the way.” 

“What do you mean, getting in the way?” 

“Well, not getting in the way, but—” 

“How much time do you need? It’ll be a year tomorrow.” 

“I know that.” 

“You can talk to me.” 

“I know that. I just—” 

“Don’t say you need more time. You’ve had plenty.” 

“Well,” Woody starts to say, then loses conviction or momentum or something crucial like that, and then he deflates and  mutters “dammit” and looks away. Buzz gets up and starts to leave him alone. Then he pauses, looking back over his shoulder. 

“You need to figure out what you want. What’s important to you, and what isn’t.”

Woody jumps to his feet, adamant. “I know what’s important.” 

Buzz turns to face him. “You’ve been acting strange. When you kissed me, I was... _surprised_ , but I decided I could trust it. I thought things would get better.” 

“Buzz—” 

“But I get it now. You only did it cause you’re losing your grip. Not because you love me.”

Woody looks stricken. Buzz turns red, lowers his gaze. “I love you,” he says. “I just want you to be happy. Whatever it takes. I’ll do it.” 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

“I know.” 

There’s a silence. Part of Buzz wants to apologize, but another part knows he has nothing to apologize for. Still, it hurts that Woody can’t seem to look at him. 

“One more day,” Woody finally says, and his eyes are pleading. “Just give me one more day to sort things out. I’ll start acting normal again. I promise.” 

Buzz nods mutely, but they both know it can never be as simple as that.

They turn heir heads and the whole room is staring at them: Jessie, Trixie, Rex, Slinky, the Potato Heads, even Totoro. Woody flushes the color of a cherry, turns, and stalks off.

Buzz takes his cue to do the same. 


	5. Familiar Faces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not this again. Or, an old friend makes a surprising reappearance.

Buzz wakes up and something is very wrong. Woody isn’t there.

He doesn’t even have to turn and head and look before he realizes it. The awareness of his absence simply exists without logical explanation. 

He still checks, though, just in case. Sure enough, Woody’s usual spot is vacant. No signs of a struggle.

Bonnie cries when she finds out. Her mom pats her back and promises he’ll turn up someplace. “Why don’t you bring Dolly to breakfast instead?”

Bonnie does so tearfully. Buzz calls everyone together and has them do a quick sweep of the room. The results are disappointing.

“Who was the last one to see him?”

“He went off to mope after you guys fought,” said Potato Head. “Haven’t seen ‘im since. He’s been moodier than a teenage girl the past couple weeks.”

While Bonnie is at school, Buzz organizes a legitimate search party. They tear up the house and the front and back yard, but it’s fruitless. 

Buzz paces and frets. There’s always the chance he’ll turn up again, and no evidence suggesting he’s not gone of his own volition and probably perfectly fine (if any toy can take care of himself, Woody can), but Buzz is still worried. 

It’s a dangerous world out there.

 

 

*

 

 

The antique shop has a cluttered, cozy, welcoming feel, every flat surface home to some knickknack or thingamajig. There’s such a wide variety of items— statues, teapots, books, bottles, lamps, chandeliers, jewelry, posters, paintings, clocks, cabinets, mirrors, picture frames, VHSs, CDs, vinyl records— that one would be extremely hard pressed to feel out of place. Woody falls in love with the place the moment he sets foot in it. 

Having Bo next to him for the first time in a long time probably lends a hand to that feeling. He missed her a lot.

He thought he was dreaming when he first saw her face. He sat up quickly, about to cry out, but she slapped a hand over his mouth and held a finger to her lips. 

“Shh.”

He stared at her, unblinking. Surely, it couldn’t be. She moved her hand away and he whispered, “Bo?” 

“Hi, Woody.”

Everything he could think to say seemed so inadequate, he almost didn’t bother. Finally, he managed, “I can’t believe it’s you.” 

“Believe it, cowboy.” She smiled a cocky, confident grin that, in retrospect, Woody should have recognized was more of a facsimile of her old smile than the real thing, but like a ton of bricks it hit him that she was here, really here, and a huge grin split his face and he picked her up and spun her around, the two of them stifling their laughter in the dark. 

“Where have you been?” He put her down, took a good look at her. “Your dress— what happened to it?” 

“That old thing?” She waved a hand dismissively. “I outgrew it. Besides, polka dots have been out of fashion for about two hundred years.” 

“Wow. I really missed you.” 

“I missed you, too.”

There was a silence as they stared at each other, the initial joy of being reunited transitioning seamlessly into awkwardness and uncertainty. Bo hesitated, her smile wavering slightly. “Don’t I get a welcome-back kiss?” 

Woody faltered, his smile fading. It was all so much. “Where are you living these days? How— how did you find us?” 

“It’s a long story.” She didn’t ask about Buzz or any of the others. Instead, she looked at the window somewhat anxiously. “Do you... want to take a quick walk with me? To where I live? It’s nice— you’ll like it.” 

He could have said no, should have said no. But things haven’t been so tremendous here and he could really use a break, just a short getaway, and an opportunity like this didn’t present itself every day, and he hadn’t seen Bo in years, and he loved her and missed her every second of the entire time and would pretty much do anything if it meant he wouldn’t have to say goodbye to her anytime soon. 

So, “I don’t know,” he whispered, glancing at Bonnie’s sleeping figure. Irresponsible didn’t even begin to cover it. Bo took his hand. His legs turned to jelly, his conviction dissolving like salt in water.

“Okay,” he said.

“Great.” 

Her method of transportation turned out to be a dog. Woody liked dogs. He petted it and let it lick his face. “Max is his name,” Bo said, then laughed. “Remember you and Buster?“ 

“Like it was yesterday.” 

Bo mounted the canine, then offered Woody the end of her sheperd’s crook. “Hope you brought your riding boots.”

In the present, Bo introduces him to everyone in the shop— or to most of them, at least, as many as she can, glossing over personalities in favor of listing off as many names as possible within the short time they have before sunup. Everyone takes a liking to Woody, and Woody takes a liking right back. 

“You’d fit right in,” they say, and he’s too overwhelmed to get what they mean at first. A little ways in, he starts to tear up. Bo pulls him aside, touches his face.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” 

“Nothing’s wrong.” He wipes his eyes, smiles at her. “I just— I wondered about you a lot. It’s nice to know you had a place to call home, all this time.” 

She looks at him for a minute. Then she kisses him. Her porcelain lips aren’t soft, but the taste is just as he remembered. 

It’s crowded in the little shop, and pretty soon the others notice them, and when they do, they start to cheer. Woody and Bo have to break apart when the amount that they’re giggling makes kissing impossible. 

“I knew I’d see you again someday,” she tells him. “You’re the only one for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ??? Love??? Triangle ???!


	6. Use Your Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buzz has a flashback. Jessie comes forward with some pertinent information. Subtle hints are dropped.

When Jessie and Buzz broke up, everyone wanted to know why. "We just don't have anything in common," Buzz said with a shrug. Woody studied him closely, arms folded, but couldn't detect any trace of dishonesty. 

"But you seemed so perfect for each other."

"I thought so, too."

"You're not interested in someone else, are you?"

"No, of course not."

"Is Jessie?"

Buzz didn't answer. Woody smiled. 

"She is, isn't she? Who?"

"I don't know. Ask her."

Woody stuck his thumbs into his vest, making that cocky, smirky face he does when he's playing up the whole "rootin'-est, tootin'-est cowboy" bit. "Ya think she likes me?"

Buzz smiled, too. "Ninety percent of toys in this room like you."

"I know. It's the hat."

"It's not the hat. You're handsome, compassionate, dependable..."

"Whoa. Gonna pop the question next?"

"I'm serious." Buzz blushed down to his neck. Woody took pity on him, gave him a solid push. 

"I'm kidding."

Buzz hesitated. "Hey, Woody. Ever think about, y'know. Putting yourself back out there?"

It took a second for the question to register. Then Woody's smile faded. "What?"

"I mean, I know you love Bo, but—"

"Whoa, whoa." Woody took a big step back. Buzz rushed on, almost as if he was anxious.

"—but it's been a long time since she left and, well. You can't stay hung up forever."

"Wait a minute, wait a minute. I'm not "hung up," and— and where's this coming from all of a sudden? Have you given thought to this?" 

"Woody—"

"You _have_ given thought to this." Woody's eyes widened in realization. Then his expression turned angry, and he stamped his foot. "What the heck, Buzz?"

"Look, I was just... worried about your welfare." 

"My _welfare?_  So— so, what, you decide to dredge up bad memories? I mean, why'd you have to bring up Bo?"

Buzz met his gaze full-on. "You can't pretend she never existed, any more than you can pretend that you don't have needs."

"I don’t believe this."

"What are you getting so upset for?"

"I’m not upset."

"You need to trust me. This is for your own good."

"You sound like you've been rehearsing in the mirror." Woody folded his arms. "Have you?"

"No."

"You have been. Admit it."

Buzz grimaced. "Maybe a little."

"Whether or not I choose to date is none of your concern, space toy."

"I'm trying to help you."

"Well, stop trying."

"Fine!" Buzz threw his hands in the air. "Forget I said anything, okay? We don't have to talk about it."

There was a silence as they avoided each other's gazes, Buzz going back to repairing his spaceship— the cardboard one Bonnie made— and Woody staring out into the bedroom, chewing his lip. Finally, Woody sighed.

"Why'd you have to go and bring this up?"

"I said forget about it. You don't want to talk about it, we don't have to talk about it."

"Buzz—"

"You can't be alone forever. There are plenty of toys out there. You have options."

"Oh, my god."

"What about Dolly? Or the major?"

"Shut up shut up shut up."

Buzz hesitated, then smiled. "I guess the major's not really your type."

Woody rubbed his face with both hands, looking drained. "She's swell and all, but... no. No, she's not."

They locked eyes, and, to Buzz's immense relief, Woody smiled, too. "You're sweet, Buzz," he said.

Buzz's heart stopped. He didn't know what he was expecting Woody to say in that moment, but it sure as hell wasn't that.

 

 

*

 

 

Buzz contemplates his memories as he sits at the windowsill, wondering what Woody is doing at this moment, where he might be. If he's ever going to come back at all. It would be uncharacteristic, to say the least, for him to up and abandon his friends. Sure, he may have attempted numerous times to do so in the past, but those occasions all ended with everyone happily reunited. 

So this time is no different, right? He's going to come back. Because Buzz has no clue at all where he could have gone. There were no clues, no warning signs. The stupid cowboy wasn't even considerate enough to leave a note. He may as well have woken Buzz up just to say, "I don't care if you die of a heart attack from worrying about me. Buh-bye!"

Buzz really doesn’t understand him sometimes.

Jessie appears out of nowhere. Strange. Usually she's quite loud, but not this time. She sits next to him, fusses with the end of her braid. Doesn't meet his gaze.

"Hello, Jessie," he says.

"Hi, Buzz."

"Something on your mind?" He studies her, but she doesn't say anything. "How's the major?" he asks lightly.

"She's fine. We have a date on Friday."

"I'm happy for you."

"I wanted to talk to you about Woody." She finally looks at him, and Buzz thinks she's going to say something deep and thought-provoking about friendship and love, but instead she says, "I didn't want to say anything, because I thought he'd be back soon. But it's been a week, and, well..." She took a deep breath. "I know I should have said something sooner."

Buzz's smile melts. 

"I saw him the night before he disappeared. He was with someone. A doll. She looked like... Bo Peep." Jessie looked at him again. "That sounds crazy, right?"

"What else did you see?"

"They were talking. I couldn't hear them. And then they left out the window. I should have said something sooner. I'm sorry. ...Buzz?"

Buzz is no longer listening. He stares into space as his mind races at a hundred miles per hour. 

Bo Peep? Woody’s ex-girlfriend was here? 

It’s a relief in some ways. Odds are, if he’s with Bo, Woody is safe, not in danger or held against his will. But Bo— no one’s seen Bo in years. She was supposed to be gone forever.  

“Are you sure it was her?” 

“It looked like her. Her clothes were different.” Jessie watched his face anxiously. “What are we going to do, Buzz?” 


	7. Plot Twist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things take a sharp turn for the worse. This one’s on Bo, although Woody isn’t entirely not to blame, considering he didn’t tell anyone where he was going. The likelihood of an easy solution isn’t great.

Bo isn't the only doll in the store. There are frilly-hatted, petticoated Victorian dolls, kimono-wearing, hair-ornamented geisha dolls, white-aproned, yarn-haired rag dolls, ballet-slippered, rosy-cheeked porcelain dolls. The variety is wide, but they all have one thing in common: no child would ever play with them. They're too old-fashioned to hold appeal, or they're for display only, or— like Gabby— they're broken. The unluckiest are some combination of all three.

Something else they have in common is a deep crush on a certain pull-string cowboy doll. Bo never thought she would be gripped by the same sort of petty, feverish jealousy that made Woody push Buzz out of the window in ‘95, but she can definitely see things going that way the moment anyone tries to make a move on him.

Not that he has any clue. Of course not. He just sits in his case, legs criss-crossed, gazing out of the window and ruminating. And if every female toy in the entire shop is clustered conspicuously nearby him, he just assumes that's just where they happen to be, incidentally, and that he, himself, has nothing to do with it. The girls whisper and giggle amongst themselves, nudge each other and try to work up the courage to talk to him, but no one ever does. They’re too shy. 

That's how it's been for the last week, ever since he started living here.

Bo feels bad about it. She really does. The look on his face when he realized he was to be kept against his will— it was like someone had cut a hole in his chest, reached in, and scooped out all the innocence. He looked like he'd never be able to trust anyone or anything again.

Which wasn't her intention. She's looking out for him. She loves him. Doesn't he know that?

Maybe not, if he's really this oblivious. The other dolls are staring at him shamelessly (damn near salivating, Bo disdainfully observes), but, with his back to them, he’s completely unaware. Bo isn't the only doll in the store, but to him, she may as well be. He lacks the capacity to notice anyone else.

She makes her way through the moon-eyed gaggle, hops to the floor, then climbs onto the table. A locked case securely guards a dozen or so vintage watches, a heart-shaped locket, a collection of tiny jade elephants, and the love of her life. He turns around when she raps her knuckles against the glass, but doesn't smile.

Her heart hurts. He used to light up whenever he saw her. This is the first time that he hasn’t. They both realize it, and the awareness of their situation hits them at the same time. Then, finally, as if as a truce offering, he gives her his signature warm, friendly smile.

"Y’know... it's not too late to say it’s just a prank."

She smiles. Fifteen years, and his sense of humor is just the same. 

"We used to do pranks all the time,” he says. “Remember when we tricked Rex into thinking the Buzz Lightyear feature film was cancelled?"

"It's not a prank, Woody."

He nods thoughtfully, then says, "I think we should break up."

"I'm doing this for you. Don't you trust me?"

"Not anymore."

She pouts, vying for his sympathy. "You'll regret that someday. Someday, you’ll see that this was all for the best."

He's not smiling anymore, not at all. "It's not for the best, Bo. I need to go home. The others are probably worried sick about me. Bonnie's probably worried sick!"

"Oh, Woody. Sometimes the right thing to do isn’t the easiest. I’m going to do what’s best for you, even if it makes you hate me.” She touches the glass. “I love you. Nothing you say will ever change that.” 

“If you loved me, you’d let me go. You can’t keep me locked up here.” His voice rises. “This is insane.” 

“Woody—” 

“It doesn't have to be like this.” He puts his hand on the glass next to hers. “Come home with me, Bo. We can be a family again.” 

For a second, she says nothing. Then she sighs and takes her hand away. “I can’t.”

She can feel his eyes on her as she turns her back and disappears over the edge of the table. She walks aimlessly through the aisles, brooding, until a familiar voice breaks her train of thought. 

“He’ll come around. Just give him time.” 

It’s Gabby. She’s nestled in her stroller, wide awake. Bo frowns at her. 

“Were you eavesdropping?”

Gabby smiles innocently. “It’s a small room. Sound travels.”

Bo looks at the ground, wringing her staff with both hands. “Woody is really important to me. He’s been my one and only since the day we met.” 

“He just needs time to adjust." Gabby shrugs, as if it isn't a big deal. "Not like he has a choice.” 

“Am I doing the right thing?”

"Bo." Gabby gives her a look that says, _you poor, naive idiot._ "Toys are thrown away every day. Woody's already come this close to rotting in a dumpster. His luck won’t last forever." She falters, as if the words are difficult. "I know it's hard. But if you let him go, he’ll die. If you care about him at all, you'll do everything in your power to stop him from leaving."

"But if he's not happy here..."

"He will be. Like I said: give it time." Gabby smiles coyly. "If I was you, I'd be more worried about keeping the girls away from him. If they get any more smitten, you'll need to start beating them back with a bat."

"Woody has that affect on toys. Boys, too." Bo sighs, remembering. "I'm pretty sure Buzz had a thing for him, for a while."

“You want my advice? Remind him how much you mean to him. One good kiss should bring him back around.” She winks, and Bo can't help but smile.

“Thanks, Gabby.”

“Of course.”


	8. Trade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Woody tries to escape and winds up confronting Gabby Gabby.

Time is running out. Over and over, he's done the math— years of sneaking around in perilous, unfamiliar places have given him an edge— and he’s not going to get a better chance. If he breaks out in the daytime, he'll be caught by the carnival staff. If he breaks out at night, he'll be caught by Bo Peep and Gabby and (a shiver passes down his spine) those creepy ventriloquist dummies. 

Inadvertently, Woody recalls a paperback novel Andy once owned, _Night of the Living Dummy_ or something like that. He doesn't want to have to confront them. He's pretty sure he'd be too scared to fight. He might be able to run, maybe, but it's better if he just doesn't get caught. He’ll take his chances in the daytime, he’d decided.

Currently, the day’s shopkeeper is upstairs (the second floor is where they keep the furniture) with a customer, bound to come down again any minute. He’ll have to be fast.

In his hands his a jade elephant. He has to use both hands to hold it; they're heavier than they look. Far from being annoyed, the elephant nuzzles him with its trunk, making little sounds of contentment not dissimilar to purring. They like being picked up. If he had any interest in staying, he probably would have named them by now. They're fond of him, and he of them.

Which is why it's so difficult to bring himself to do this. He doesn't know if using them to break the glass will hurt them. But they're his only chance. 

It’s been two weeks. Bonnie will have looked everywhere by now. For him to just appear out of nowhere, to show up any old place, clear out of the blue— it'd be too suspicious. Eyebrows would be raised, questions asked. Next thing you know, Bonnie's too scared to play with any of them. She puts them in a box in the closet and never looks at them again. She starts doubting her sanity, her world crumbles. Toys don’t get up and walk around by themselves— do they? 

Woody can't let that happen. He has to escape tonight.

Not to mention he's getting sick of the scenery around here. From his experience, places that are interested in convincing you to stay, especially after you’ve made it clear you’d rather leave, typically have ulterior motives. He doesn't trust Gabby one bit. Bo does, but Bo’s judgement isn't to be taken under advisement. It's her fault Woody's here to begin with.

If he could think of a way for them to escape together, he'd do it in an instant. But she doesn't want to listen, and it's enough trouble just to get himself out. So, for now, he can't let his mind wander towards her— towards thoughts of forgiveness, redemption. It's too soon. He can't be taking unnecessary risks, not when Bonnie needs him.

He looks at the elephant in his hand, gives it a small grin, and whispers, "you ready?"

The elephant wiggles its stumpy legs. It's so cute. Again, Woody doubts his ability to go through with this. Before he can talk himself out of it, however, he squeezes his eyes shut, grips the elephant tightly, and thrusts his arms forward with all his might.

The glass cracks. He does it again. It breaks. He puts the elephant down, gives it a quick pat and a whisper of, "thanks, friend," before he maneuvers himself through the jagged edges and the broken shards onto the tabletop. For the first time in days, he can stand up straight. It feels amazing. He breathes in the air of the shop and feels invigorated. 

Now, to get out of here. 

He leaps down to the floor just as he hears the sound of footsteps on the stairs. He darts behind a vase, angling for the door. Through the storefront windows, the carnival is aswarm with children and their parents. But if he can slip into the hedges, he can wait until nightfall, and then—

Arms as hard and cold as steel, circling him, lifting him off his feet. He kicks. Someone claps a hand over his mouth. He wants to cry out, but the shopkeeper has returned to her place at the register, and even as the previous customer leaves, a new one comes in. If he doesn’t keep his dumb trap shut, he’ll be seen.

The toy holding onto him doesn’t say anything, and the suit jacket buttons jabbing into his back, along with the soft clicking and rattling of wooden limbs and hinged jaw, cements his suspicions— it’s one of Gabby’s ventriloquist dummies. Now that Woody’s facing his worst fears, he finds it interesting to note that he’s more annoyed than scared. 

And why shouldn’t he be? He’d been this close.

 

*

 

The dummy doesn’t vacate their hiding place until the shop is closed for the night. When the shopkeeper frets about the mess, sweeps it into a handheld dustpan and wonders why someone would steal a worthless old cowboy doll (worthless— ha! If only, Woody thought somewhat bitterly; he’d have been saved a lot of past trouble if that was the case) she’s so close that Woody can smell her perfume, and it makes him nervous (we’re gonna be seen, we’re gonna be seen, he thinks with all his might, as if hoping the dummy would read his mind), but the dummy doesn’t flinch.

His grip doesn’t loosen, either. Toys don’t get bruises, but it hurts, after a while.

By the time the lights go out and the dummy (Woody decides to call him Slappy, after the character in Andy’s book) finally moves, Woody is ready to talk to Bo. He has a few choice words he’d like to use. 

“This is outrageous,” he’d say, and “do you not see how insane this is?” and “is this really how you treat your friends?” 

But Slappy doesn’t take him to Bo Peep. Slappy takes him to Gabby Gabby. 

“Trying to escape?” Gabby asks him. For once, she’s not nestled in her stroller. For once, she’s on her own two feet— sort of. She’s on a doll-sized rocking horse. Woody’s never seen this part of the store before. It’s somewhere dark and quiet, just the two of them and Slappy. 

“I know you’re controlling Bo Peep,” Woody says, doing his best to appear defiant and threatening despite having his arms held behind his back and his feet not on the ground. “I know you’re the one who ordered her to keep me trapped here. Why? What do you want from me?”

Gabby ignores his question, like he hadn’t even asked. “What happened to your arm?” 

“My arm?” 

“It looks like your right arm was torn and reattached. Look— the stitches are a different color.” 

“That’s from a long time ago. My owner fixed me.” 

“How old are you, Woody?” 

Woody frowns, suspicious. “What does that matter?” 

“Y’know, it’s hard to find replacement parts for old toys like you and me,” Gabby says, rocking back and forth slowly on her wooden horse. “I was made in the sixties. I’m obsolete. No child would bother to repair me, even if parts were available.”

Woody is silent for a moment before he says, “I’m sorry.” To his credit, he means it. Unfortunately, Gabby doesn’t seem interested in his sympathy.

No. If sympathy was all she wanted, she wouldn’t need Woody. She has Bo Peep for that. 

“You don’t have to stay that much longer,” Gabby says. “I’ll let you go. On one condition.” 

Woody tells himself he doesn’t know where this is going. Otherwise, he’s sure he would be too afraid to speak. “What’s that?”

She doesn’t reply. She doesn’t have to— not when her smile says everything, not when the answer is so obvious.


	9. Yankee Dime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bo realizes something important (after Jessie calls her out for one or two things, in front of everybody).

Two weeks gone, and Jessie’s at her limit. She stares out of the window, mulling over her options. Buzz appears at her side.

“Come on,” he says. “We’re having a meeting.”

"Meetin' after meetin' ain't done no good. We oughta be out there lookin' for 'im."

"We don't know where to start.”

"Hmph! Y'all can go on an' have your little pow-wow, but I'm staying right here."

"Jess, everyone's waiting for us."

"Listen, Buzz." She gets up, and he finds himself nose to nose with her. "I'm through settin' around. We done far too much of it already. Now, when Bonnie has her bedtime tonight, I'm leavin' out that there winder—" she points, her eyes not leaving him "—and I'm gonna find the sheriff and bring him home. You can come with me or not, but you ain't gonna stop me."

"Jessie, I want to look for him, too, but we have to have a plan."

"A plan? Did the sheriff have a plan when he rescued us from Lotso?"

"No, but—"

"Did he have a plan when he followed me into that godforsaken aircraft?"

Buzz frowns, growing impatient. "Now's not the time to make irrational decisions."

"Then stay here and keep twiddlin' your thumbs. I'm going."

“Going where?” He can’t take her seriously. “You have no idea where he could be. You'll get lost and I'll never see you again.”

"Well, what if that's what happened to Woody?"

“Jess—”

"You know he's worth a pretty penny. What if he was stolen again? What if we can't get him back this time?"

"You're panicking."

"I thought you were his best friend."

Buzz is taken aback. "I am."

"He needs our help, Buzz." She surprises him by putting an arm around his shoulder. "An' when we find him, I'm sure he'll be givin' one of us a big ol' Yankee dime."

He misses a beat. “A what?” 

She rolls her eyes, like he’s being slow. “A kiss.”

“Oh. Oh!” Buzz falters for a moment. "Maybe we should go look for him."

Jessie breaks out in a massive grin, slaps her hat against her knee, and bellows, "Yee-haw!"

He shushes her. She picks him up and spins him around until he’s dizzy. 

"Hey!" Hamm yells at them from the floor. "What's going on up there?"

Jessie yells back down happily. "Me an' Buzz are gonna go find Woody!" 

“What? That’s crazy.” 

“Yeah, we got no leads,” Mr. Potato Head chimes in. 

“We got one,” Slinky says as Buzz and Jessie climb down the the floor. “Jessie said she saw Bo Peep, remember?” 

Potato Head scoffs. “Are you kidding? Bo Peep was sold back when Andy was twelve. What, you’re saying she magically showed up out of the blue?”

“Hi, guys.” 

All heads swivel to face the window. Standing tall in baby blue pantaloons, golden hair shining in the late afternoon sunlight, sheperd’s crook held confidently in hand, is none other than Bo Peep.

Jessie jumps up and down. “See? I told ya’ll I saw her!”

Before anyone else can speak, Bo makes her way to the floor, stepping lightly so as not to damage herself. Her arm is bandaged and her skirt has been repurposed as a cape, but it’s her, all right. 

“Where’s Woody?” she asks.

There’s a short, surprised silence. Then Buzz gathers his wits. “We were about to ask you the same question.”

“I thought he’d be here.”

“We thought he was with you.” 

“He was, but he escaped last night and I can’t find him anywhere.” 

“Escaped?” Buzz frowns. “What do you mean, escaped?”

Bo Peep tries to answer, but Jessie cuts her off, pointing an accusatory finger.

“I’ll tell ya what it means. This lily-livered good-for-nothin’ done kidnapped the sheriff. She’s been keepin’ ‘im locked up like some prisoner all along.”

“Is this true, Bo?” Buzz asks.

“It was for his own good.”

The room explodes with outrage.

“If you hurt a single hair on him, you’re going to regret it,” Jessie says.

“I didn’t.”

“Then where is he?” asks Hamm, reasonably.

“I told you, I don’t know.”

“Well, he ain’t here, that’s for damn sure.” 

“He has to be. Where else would he have gone?” Bo grips her staff like a weapon, takes a step forward. “If you’re hiding him from me...” 

“Oh, yeah?” Jessie steps forward, too. “What’re you gonna do, Goldilocks?”

“Hang on, hang on, everyone calm down.” Buzz puts a hand on Jessie’s shoulder, but she brushes it off.

“I’ll tell ya somethin’,” she says. “I ain’t got no sort of tolerance for anyone who hurts my friends.” 

“I told you, I didn’t hurt him. I was just trying to keep him safe.”

“Well, get this,” Jessie says triumphantly. “Woody’s moved on. He and Buzz have been courtin’ for the past month.”

Buzz puts a hand to his face, cheeks pink with embarrassment. “Jessie—”

“Buzz?” Bo’s looks at him in disbelief. “You and Woody are together?”

“Well—”

“Darn tootin’, they are,” Jessie proudly declares. “What do you got to say to that?”  

Bo falters, then shakes her head. “That doesn’t matter right now! Don’t you get it? He’s lost.” 

“And whose fault is that?” 

“Enough.” Buzz steps between them, hardening his tone. “There will be plenty of time to point fingers later. Right now, if what Bo Peep is saying is true, then we have no time to lose.” He gives a meaningful look to Jessie, who reluctantly stands down. Then he looks at Bo. “Can you tell us exactly what happened?”

She's silent for a moment, as though trying to decide whether to trust him. It's a very telling silence. From it, the toys in the room can discern that more than just Bo's appearance has changed over the years. The look in her eye says she’s seen too much.

"It's hard being lost," she finally says. "But it's not the hardest thing I've done since I left you all."

Buzz is somewhat startled by the change in tack, but he takes it cautiously in stride. "You could've stayed. Woody tried to rescue you."

"I don't always need rescuing. It’s not that." Bo sighs. "I've been living in an antique store. We had Woody locked in this glass case."

Jessie' voice rises in outrage. "A glass case?" 

Buzz shushes her. Bo goes on. "One day I came back and the glass was broken. I went to Gabby—"

"Who's Gabby?"

"A friend. She said she didn't know anything, but that he'd probably never forgive me for betraying him. But I know that's not true. Woody never turns his back on you— never. And I know he still loves me, no matter what you all say." She slams her staff against the ground, making everyone jump. "This is ridiculous. I'm leaving. I'll find him on my own."

"Now, wait just a minute." Buzz follows Bo Peep onto the windowsill, Jessie close behind him. The rest of the toys congregate on the floor just below. Trixie whispers to Rex, "I don't get it. Who is that doll?"

Rex whispers, "Woody's old girlfriend."

"Ohhh."

"Bo, wait." Buzz is desperately confused. "I just don't understand. You love Woody. Why did you do all of this?"

Bo stops, her back to him. "I thought I was doing the right thing! Gabby said—"

Jessie gestures frustratedly. “Who is this Gabby?”

"A friend."

"She don't sound like no friend to me. She done steered you wrong, by the tell of it."

"She wouldn't. She's a good doll— just broken. No one ever loved her because she's missing her..." Bo trails off abruptly. Jessie and Buzz exchange glances. Then Bo turns around, the look on her face one of horrified realization. "Her voice box."


	10. Exacto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Woody is threatened. Bo and Buzz work together. Featuring dog slobber and evil soliloquies.

“How’d you meet Bo?” Woody asks, partly out of curiosity, partly just to break the tension. From somewhere behind him, rifling through a sewing kit, Gabby hums absently.

“Bo Peep is a free spirit," she murmurs. "This place attracts toys like her. None of the rules you’re used to apply here— as I’m sure you’re well aware by now.”

You can say that again, Woody thinks. The sewing thread (light green, an admittedly pretty color) binding his wrists doesn't budge when resisted. He tries to swallow his nervousness, but his mouth is drier than a desert. “It’s not gonna hurt, is it?”

“Did it hurt when your arm came off?”

“Not really.” At the time, he'd felt a sudden, sharp discomfort, then nothing.

“Toys have a limited capacity to feel pain. A fascinating topic, if one cares to delve into it.” He can hear the smile in her voice. “You might feel a slight tickle.”

“I don’t suppose I can talk you out of it?”

“You won’t be doing much talking at all from now on.”

“Toys like you ought to be taught a lesson,” Woody mutters, his thoughts going to Lotso and the prospector. “You're selfish. It doesn’t matter who you hurt, as long as you get what you want. How do you live with yourselves?”

She appears in front of him. He has trouble meeting her gaze; in her hand is an X-Acto blade, razor sharp, and he stares at it, apprehensive, but oddly transfixed.

“My whole life, no one’s ever loved me,” she says, “and I’ve never loved anyone. Free from the burden of empathy, I can do as I please. And don’t think for a moment I want your voice box so some silly child will love me. I want it so that I’ll be whole. Love is arbitrary.”

He tears his eyes away from the knife. “Everyone wants to be loved.”

“Not me.”

“Y’know, once Bo finds out about this, I doubt she’ll be feeling sorry for you anymore.”

“What she doesn’t know can’t hurt her. It’s not like you’re going to tell.”

Woody smiles, surprising both of them. “She’s smart. She’ll figure it out.”

Gabby studies him for a moment. Then she fixes his hat, adjusting the angle so it’s more prim than rakish— more to her taste than to his. 

“It’s not only humans I lack empathy for,” she says. “You can’t imagine my disappointment when I learned that toys don’t feel physical pain. Psychological pain, however— that’s another matter entirely.” With a smirk, she rests the knife’s sharp edge against his cheek, and he flinches. “I know you’re thinking of escaping again. By all means, do try. You’ll find out just how much I can hurt you.”

 

*

 

Unlike Woody, Buzz doesn’t like dogs. As he stares uneasily at the pointy teeth and slobbery tongue, Bo waits impatiently for him to get on. 

“He’s not going to bite,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Hurry up or I’m leaving without you.” 

He gathers his nerve and climbs aboard. There’s nothing to hang onto— no seatbelts, no handlebars. He’s about to point this out to Bo when she commands, “take us home, Max.” The dog yips and fires off like a rocket, and Buzz has to throw his arms around her waist to keep from falling. 

“Remember,” she yells as he’s hanging on for dear life. “Don’t let anyone see you. I’ll keep her distracted. You just find Woody.”  

He shouts, “what if she gives you trouble?” 

“She doesn’t know we’re suspicious. I’m just gonna act like everything’s normal. As long as you don’t get caught, we should be fine.” 

“And what if Woody’s not there?” 

“He has to be.” 

Buzz doesn’t ask the most obvious question of all: _what if we’re already too late?_ He knows the answer perfectly well, and he refuses to consider it for a moment. Woody is counting on them. They have to believe there’s still enough time. 

When they get there, the carnival is as silent as a tomb. Buzz can see how, with its rides and games and various attractions, the place might come alive in the daytime, but at the moment he can’t help but find it immensely spooky. A shiver runs down his spine. 

He doesn’t say that, though. Instead, he says, “aren’t you scared?” 

“Of what? Gabby?” Bo pets the dog, sighing. “I thought she was a good person. I wanted to believe it. But if she hurt Woody...” 

Buzz hesitates. “No, I mean— y’know, the dog.” 

Bo blinks in surprise, then smiles wryly. “Dogs aren’t scary, Buzz. You’re just chicken.” 

Buzz ignores the swipe at his ego. “But aren’t you scared of breaking?” Her smile slowly fades as he goes on. “You’re made of porcelain. If you fell, you could’ve died.” 

He thought it was perfectly reasonable question. After all, back when they were with Andy, Bo never accompanied them on their adventures because she was a thousand times more fragile than anyone else. Odds of her being irreparably damaged were not long.

Bo doesn’t seem to appreciate the question. Without a word, she turns her back on him and starts to walk. For a moment, all he can do is stare. Then he snaps to and hurries to catch up. 

“Wait— I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” 

He tries to apologize, but Bo doesn’t seem interested. “Shhh.” She puts an arm out, gesturing for him to stop. “Watch me. Do as I do. And remember—” she shoots him a final warning stare— “don’t let anyone catch you.”

He watches her maneuver her way like an expert through the mail slot. The way she moves demonstrates poise and practice, like she’s been doing this all her life.

Still, if this is how she’s been living all these years— riding scraggly mutts like ponies, scaling buildings, climbing in and out of windows— it’s a wonder she hasn’t yet shattered. 

Buzz waits for her signal. When her lamp switches on, he knows it’s time. He copies her every movement and manages to cram himself through the mail slot, his bulky armor making the ordeal almost impossible. His feet hit the ground silently; he slips into the shadows and begins his search.


	11. The Shortest Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reunion is had, a kiss is shared, and sarcasm abounds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And once again my chapter features kisses!  
> Sorry it’s so short :’(  
> More is coming

“Mmph,” Woody protests. His lips are sweet. For a moment, their surroundings seem to melt away, and when Buzz closes his eyes, he can almost imagine they’re safe at home.

The illusion shatters when Woody bites him.

“Ow!” Buzz reels back, clutching his mouth. “What was that for?”

Woody’s glaring at him. “What took you so damn long?”

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” 

“Another day and you would’ve been too late.” 

Buzz stares in disbelief. Is he really this ungrateful? “Well, whose fault was it that you left without telling anyone?” 

“I was going to come back, but I got a little held up, if you hadn’t noticed.” 

“You don’t say.” Buzz glances at the thread binding Woody’s wrists, and Woody rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah, very funny. Just get me out of this, will you? There’s a knife around here somewhere— hey!” His eyes widen as, ignoring him completely, Buzz picks him up and tosses him effortlessly onto his shoulder. He kicks and struggles, to no avail. “Buzz, what are you doing? Untie me first!” 

“No time. We gotta get out of here now.”

“Buzz!”

“Shh.”

The dolls— every last one, from the shojo figurines to the seventies’ Barbies to one gently used Raggedy Anne— are waiting for them just outside the wardrobe. They start to giggle when they see Woody, his hands restrained and his hat askew, being carried like a sack of flour, and Woody turns bright red. Buzz, on the other hand, salutes them. “Thanks, ladies. Your assistance was invaluable.” 

“Buzz, quit talking to them,” Woody hisses. “They’re the bad guys.” 

“You’re wrong, sheriff. These women are all right. If it wasn’t for them, I wouldn’t have found you.”

The geisha says something in Japanese, pointing in a direction with her fan. The Raggedy Anne translates. 

“That’s the safest route out of here. You can’t use the mail slot or someone will see you. Use the basement window. And watch out for Gabby.” 

“Thanks again, ladies.” 

Another chorus of giggles, whispers of “bye, Buzz,” and “bye, Woody.” Woody lowers his head to rest against Buzz’s mid-back, suddenly exhausted. 

“Thank god this ordeal is almost over,” he mutters as Buzz approaches the trapdoor to the basement. “And to think this place seemed so nice at first.” 

“I’m still waiting for my thank-you,” Buzz says. 

“Fine. Put me down first.” 

Buzz takes a second to make sure the coast is clear. Then he puts Woody down. For a short time, they do nothing but stare at each other, their faces vague outlines in the pitiful light. Buzz lowers his gaze only to bring Woody’s hands, still bound tightly, to his lips and kiss them. Woody softens somewhat.

“How’d you find me?” 

“Your ex-girlfriend.” 

Woody doesn’t ask for an explanation. Not yet, anyway. “Buzz, thank you. You’re the best friend a dumb toy like me could hope for.” 

“Friend?” Buzz raises an eyebrow.

“You know what I mean.” 

But Buzz isn’t sure that he does. Now that Bo Peep is back in the picture, is Woody going to want him anymore? His uncertainty must show on his face, because Woody’s smile fades, and he sighs. “Can we talk about this later?”

Buzz shrugs, tries to pretend that doesn’t sting. “Sure.” 

Woody hesitates. “I love you, y’know. I’ll always love you, no matter what.”

Buzz’s heart flutters, and he smiles. “I love you, too,” he says. “To infinity and beyond.”

They kiss, and, once again, everything else seems to fade away, the whole world reduced to the two of them. Only this time, there are no interruptions.


	12. Tug of War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They’re this close to freedom. All they have to do is not kill each other.

Buzz’s glow-in-the-dark feature is the only source of light as they descend into the basement. Shadows loom from every side, as unknowable as death. Suddenly, Woody is no longer annoyed at having to be carried, the way Buzz insisted— bridal style, like this is their wedding day. He feels safe like this. Although—

"Why can't I have my hands free?"

"I don't need you running off again," Buzz whispers. "At least this way, I know you can't cause any trouble." 

Woody rolls his eyes. “Seriously?”

"Have you ever been down here before?"

"I didn’t get a chance to look around before they locked me up and tried to harvest my insides."

"Oh, right. Bo mentioned that."

"What else did she mention?"

"Not much. Wanna fill me in?"

Woody falters, then sighs. “Aw, Buzz. What can I say? She just showed up one night, clear out of the blue. Like an angel.” He shakes his head, remembering. “I couldn’t believe it. She was wearing pants, but other than that, she was just like her old self. Until..."

"Until she stabbed you in the back?"

“No. I mean, well, yes, but it's not what you think. She wasn't trying to hurt me. It was more like... like—" 

Buzz scowls, not at all convinced Bo wasn't trying to hurt him. "Like what?"

"Like she didn't know what she was doing.” Woody frowns. “And I better not catch the pair of you acting any way other than friendly. If it wasn't for her, you wouldn't have been able to rescue me."

"No one's rescued yet. We still have to get out of here. Can you see the window?"

"I can't see anything. Where's the light switch?"

The words have scarcely left his mouth before there’s a sudden, hair-raising yell of "boo!" Buzz jumps out of his skin, causing Woody to yelp and tighten his grip, and nearly falls flat on his face. Then he whirls around.

Bo is standing there, laughing.

"The look on your face," she wheezes.

Woody sighs in relief as Buzz furiously whispers, "don't you realize this is no time to be joking around?"

"Aw, c'mon." Bo fixes Woody's hat, then pecks his cheek with a kiss that turns him cherry red. "Don't be mad. You're looking for the window, right? It's this way."

She sets off. Buzz is disgruntled, but he follows. “I thought you were supposed to be distracting Gabby.” 

“I was. It was easy. I just let the cat in.”

Buzz’s face pales. “Cat? What cat? Can it get in here?” He casts an uneasy glance toward the stairs.

“Relax. I shut the trapdoor.” 

“You have a cat and a dog?” Woody asks. 

“You better believe it. It’s like a zoo around here.” 

“More like a prison,” Buzz mutters. 

“Buzz,” Woody chastises. Bo stops dead and turns around, as if to retort, but then her gaze lands on Woody's trussed hands, and her eyes widen.

"Woody," she exclaims. "Honey, you're all tied up." She takes a step forward, reaching for him, and Woody anticipates the gentle, familiar caress of her fingertips. Buzz takes a step back, shifting Woody so that Bo can't reach him, his eyes spelling out a clear, hostile message: s _tay back._

"Buzz," Woody cries, chagrined. Bo is momentarily stunned. Then her mouth twists into a smirk. 

"It's fine," she says. "He's just protecting you. Aren't you, you adorable little space ranger, you?" She pinches Buzz's cheek condescendingly. Buzz doesn't flinch.

"I've been cooperating with you so far," he says coolly. "But don't think for a moment I trust you. You still have a lot of explaining to do— not just to me, but to everyone. You hurt Woody."

"Buzz," Woody starts to protest, but Bo cuts him off.

“I told you, I was trying to keep him safe. Gabby lied to me. She used me. If I had known Woody was in danger, of course I never would have done it. He's my boyfriend.”

"No, he's _my_ boyfriend."

Woody stifles a groan. "Guys—"

"Well, you know what, honey? I really don't believe that."

"Oh, yeah?" Buzz is smug. "Tell her, sheriff."

"It's true," Woody confesses. "But it— well, it's a fairly recent development."

"Well, even if it is true, it's only because he thought I was gone. Now I'm back, and I got to warn you, I don't take well to competitors."

Buzz doesn't even try to suppress a belligerent smile. "What are you saying?"

In a single fluid movement, Bo drops into a fighting stance, body low, staff raised. "I'm saying put the cowboy down and let's settle this right here, right now."

"Wait a minute, wait a minute!" Woody raises his voice before Buzz can do anything. "Now, look. I agree that we've all got a lot to sort out, but can we do it some other time? That cat won't keep them busy forever, not to mention Buzz's light is already starting to fade."

They all look at Buzz. It's true. Even the most advanced glow-in-the-dark technology doesn't last all night.

"We can talk later, but for right now, our first priority should be getting out of this darn basement. Agreed?" Woody asserts himself in the same manner he used to, back when he was in charge of Andy's room. Buzz and Bo glare at each other. Then Bo turns and stalks off.

Buzz looks pleased with himself. Woody suppresses a sigh. If his hands were free, he would've given him a smack upside the head. Instead, he mutters, "now who's the jealous one?" 

“Jealous implies I feel threatened,” Buzz says smoothly. “But I’m not, because she's not taking you away from me.”

"Can we not discuss this now? I want to go home, if you don't mind."

Woody expects a witty response. His eyes widen with surprise when Buzz kisses his cheek. "Yes, darling." 


	13. Parkour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone, somewhere, fucked up. Perhaps multiple people. Maybe even multiple times.

It takes a while to convince Buzz to put Woody down, but in the end, he has little choice. Bo’s plan of escape involves opening the window, and no one besides Buzz can reach. His talent for stunts, the fact that he’s the only light source, and the fact that everyone else is either shatterable or physically restrained makes him the only man for the job.

Under ordinary circumstances, he'd be more than happy to help out, especially if it meant he could show off for his boyfriend (and, to a lesser but not insignificant degree, his boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend). But these aren’t ordinary circumstances, and given the possible dire consequences, he’s reluctant to be separated from Woody, even for a moment, at any cost.

“Go,” Woody encourages him. “I'll be fine.”

Buzz’s eyes, illuminated by his own green light, fill with worry. He holds Woody tightly. “But—”

Bo cuts him off impatiently. “The sooner you get it done, the sooner we can get out of here. Trust me, we're not going anywhere without you.” 

“But—” 

“Come on, Buzz.” Woody smiles his warm smile. “What’s the worst that can happen?” 

Buzz hesitates. “Promise you’ll be here when I get back.” 

“Hey, you heard the lady. We aren’t going anywhere. That there’s a certified promise.” 

Once Buzz is gone, Bo sighs, and Woody braces himself for a wave of anger, of betrayal, of injured feelings (he did, after all, basically cheat on her, even if he wasn’t aware of it at the time). Instead, she says, “you guys are pretty cute together.” 

Woody blinks. He wasn't expecting that. “Really?” 

“Really.” 

“Oh. Well—”

"I should just let him have you.” She sounds like she’s genuinely considering it. “You boys are more trouble than you’re worth.” 

He’s not sure if she’s kidding. “You think?” 

“Well, almost.”

There’s a pause as he casts about for the right thing to say. “Thanks for coming back for me.” 

“I could never leave you. And I’m sorry for getting us all into this.”  

“It’s okay. Trust me, I know what it’s like to be misled.” 

She says nothing in response, but the air between them is a little clearer after that.

The minutes tick by. Bo grows impatient. She cups her hands around her mouth. “Buzz. ...Buzz!” When there’s no reply, she frowns. “Something’s off. He should’ve been back by now.” 

“What do we do?” 

“Wait here. I’m going upstairs.” 

“What?” His eyes widen. “You can’t leave me.” 

“I’ll be right back.” 

“I’ll go with you.” 

“It’s too dangerous.” She pushes him against the wall, grabs his hat off his head and stuffs it into his hands. “Stay here, don’t make a sound, and don’t worry. Everything is going to be fine.” 

Once she’s gone, Woody puts his hat back on, repeating her words to himself: “everything is going to be fine.” He sinks down against the wall, takes a few deep breaths. “Everything is going to be fine.” 

Now that he’s alone, the darkness seems much darker, the silence much more penetrating. He closes his eyes, tries to think positive. Soon, he’s going to see Jessie again. She’ll lock him into one of her famous spine-crushing hugs and refuse to let go until he’s half-suffocated. Then Slink will tell him how worried he was, and Potato Head will make some joke at his expense while secretly being really glad to see him.  

Time passes. He tugs at the restraints. Still no give. "Everything is going to be fine," he murmurs, but it’s not until he’s beginning to seriously doubt it that he hears the sound of footsteps. Relief floods him like a tidal wave. He smiles and gets to his feet, almost tripping, and starts to run towards the sound. 

Then he freezes.

The trapdoor is open, casting a dim ray of moonlight by which he can just see. Three dummies are tottering awkwardly down the stairs. One of them starts to turn and look at him, its head rotating unnaturally on its shoulders, but he darts out of sight just in time.

His thoughts race. They must’ve dealt with the cat somehow. Which means he’s out of time. And now Buzz is in danger, if he hasn’t been caught already— wait, what if that’s why he didn’t come back?

Oh no, oh no. If anything happens to Buzz, Woody will never forgive himself.

He peeks out from behind a cardboard box of Christmas decorations. As he watches, they shut the trapdoor, throwing the room back into darkness. 

Okay. Okay. Don’t panic, he orders himself, closing his eyes again. This is no time to panic. Bo is coming back any minute now. She’ll know what to do.


	14. Space Cage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buzz ponders the similarities between himself and a useless, tiny worm. Bo pretends to be oblivious. It’s not a good look for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m glad everyone seems to be having a good time here. Thanks for the lovely comments and, as always, thanks for reading!

The plan was simple. Get to the window, open the latch, secure the rope, and toss it down. Bo, acrobat that she is, could climb it as easily as batting her eyelashes. The same couldn’t be said for Woody, not while he didn’t have his hands, but Buzz could carry him. Mostly cotton and stuffing, he weighs very little.

As it turns out, Buzz likes carrying Woody. He likes whisking him off his feet and cradling him in his arms. He’ll take just about any excuse to do so, tonight especially. The sarcastic smiles and dry-witted remarks don’t put him off one bit. And if Bo wants to stop him, well, she can just try. She’ll soon learn there’s no coming between Buzz and the man he loves.

The plan was going smoothly until Gabby showed up— first her shoes, then her frilly skirt, then her calculating eyes and ginger hair. Buzz had never met her before, but somehow, he knew right away who she was, no introduction necessary. With her were several blank-eyed dummies that reminded him of that one book Andy used to own, the creepy one that gave them all nightmares.

“Look, Benson,” Gabby said. “A spaceman.”

Buzz tried to duck back inside the basement, but he wasn’t fast enough. They grabbed him. He kicked and tried to cry out, but they shoved something over his face, and then it was all he could do just to breathe. He’d meant to say “let me go,” but it came out like “mm-mmph” instead. Which didn’t have the effect he wanted. Also, he could no longer see.

He felt himself being picked up and carried. He heard voices and a door opening and closing. He felt the cool night air of outside change to the stale, musty air of the shop’s interior.

As he waited to learn what they were going to do to him, he contemplated his failure. At that very moment, Bo and Woody were waiting for him to come back, but he never would. Eventually, they would realize what happened, and they would try to rescue him. 

If he could, he’d tell them not to. He can find a way out of this mess by himself. What’s getting taken hostage but a minor setback to a ranger of his caliber? The important thing is that his friends get home safe. Any attempt to rescue him would put them in needless danger. 

If he could talk to them, that’s what he’d say. But he can’t, and the knowledge that they’re going to try to save him and probably get captured trying is like a weight in his chest. 

They’re all doomed, and it’s his fault. He’s useless; he is unworthy of Woody’s love, unworthy even of Bo’s disdain. He is the lowliest insect.

 

*

 

Buzz isn't outside. There's evidence of a struggle— jumbled footprints, trampled grass. Bo climbs back inside through the mail slot and is just debating what to do when she hears Gabby's voice.

"Put him somewhere he can't escape."

In the middle of the floor, four dummies are struggling with Buzz. He manages to free a leg and gives one of them a solid kick. There’s the resounding crack of breaking wood, and the dummy goes down. Another one takes its place, and Buzz is once again restrained.

Gabby is standing off to the side, looking bored. “Will you guys hurry up? Break his joints if you have to.”

"Gabby?” Bo resists the urge to break into a run. Instead, she approaches calmly, speaking in as normal a voice as she can. “What are you doing?"

Gabby turns around. When she sees Bo, she smiles. "I found your little spaceman here. He is yours, right?"

Bo stops, her eyes cutting to Buzz, who, no doubt having recognized her voice, has suddenly stopped struggling.

“No,” she lies. 

"You're sure? Take a good, long look."

They take the bag off Buzz's head, and he gasps for breath. Bo looks at him steadily, keeping her face blank. Her eyes convey a message, and to her relief, the idiot seems to understand. He looks back at her and says nothing.

"I don't know him," Bo lies again. "Who is he? Did he do something wrong?"

Gabby isn’t impressed. "Where's Woody?"

"How should I know?" Bo feigns innocence. “He left without telling me, remember? You said it yourself.” 

"No more games, Bo. We both know what's going on here."

Bo is silent. Gabby snaps her fingers. The Bensons shove Buzz into an ornate bird cage. 

“I hate space toys,” Gabby says, barely paying attention to what’s happening, as if it couldn’t interest her less; meanwhile, Bo struggles to conceal her horror. “If I had the chance, I'd destroy every last one of them.”

Buzz gets to his feet and throws himself against the door at the exact moment they lock it. He shakes the bars violently. “Let me out of here! I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“You’re not going to hurt him, are you?” Bo asks.

“What do you care? I thought you didn't know him.”

“I don't.”

“Where's Woody?”

“I don't know.”

"I need him, Bo. He has something I want, and I'm going to get it."

Bo is silent. She can’t think of a decent lie.

“I know you know where he is,” Gabby presses. “Tell me and I won't hurt the spaceman.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Buzz yells.

Gabby ignores him, not taking her eyes off Bo. “I've been broken from the day I was made. This is my one chance to change that. If you think I'm going to let it slip away, you're wrong.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Fine. The Bensons will take care of Mr. Lightyear. They’ll start by taking his legs off. Then his arms, then his wings. There’s a furnace downstairs, and... shall I go on?” 

“This is insane.” Bo feels dizzy; she tightens her grip on the staff to keep her hands from shaking. “What is wrong with you?” 

“Don’t listen to her, Bo,” Buzz orders. “I’ll be fine. Just run.” 

Bo hesitates, then sighs. “Oh, Buzz. Why’d you have to go and get captured?” 

“Hey!” Buzz is indignant. “I said splitting up was a bad idea. You didn’t want to listen to me.” 

“It was a good plan. You messed it up.” 

“You didn’t warn me about those weird puppets.” 

“What’s the matter? Is your karate-chop on the fritz?” 

“Hey, none of us would even be here to begin with if it wasn’t for you!”

“Shut up!” Gabby cuts in impatiently. “As much as I’d love to watch you argue until daylight, we all have more important things to be doing. Now, for the last time, tell me where Woody is.” 

“I told you, I don’t know!” 

“Don’t make me lose my patience, Bo. I am this close to getting everything I ever wanted.” 

“I thought you always said love is arbitrary!” 

“We all tell ourselves things that will make life a little easier.” 

Bo throws her hands up. “Is there anything you didn’t lie about?” 

Gabby gives her a meaningful look. “You have one hour. If Woody’s not in my hands by then, there’s gonna be one less Buzz Lightyear action figure in the world.” 

“You can’t do that!” 

“Just try me, honey.” She turns her head, addressing her puppets. “Boys, keep Bo company. She’ll lead you to the sheriff. Make sure she doesn’t try anything funny.”  

“Don’t,” Buzz yells. He catches Bo’s eyes. There’s something in them he can’t quite identify— resentment, maybe, or possibly fear. Then she’s walking away, surrounded on all sides by the Bensons. She doesn’t have a choice, and they both know it, but he yells anyway, pounding the inside of the cage. “Wait!”  

Gabby is smoothing her skirt and fixing her hair. Buzz pleads with her. “Don’t do this. Just let us go. You don’t have to hurt anyone.” 

“I don’t talk to space toys. Why don’t you bust out of there with one of your little gadgets?” 

“I don’t want to have to hurt you.” 

“Hurt me?” She laughs. “With what? Your little blinky red light? I know toys like you, Buzz. You think you’re all that. Well, let’s see if you’re still threatening me after I melt you into a puddle.” 

“I’m not scared of you,” Buzz says, and he means it. “I’ve met a hundred like you— just a sad, lonely toy who’s never been loved.”

Gabby’s smile fades. “Oh trust me, Buzz,” she says. “You’ve never met anyone like me before.”


	15. Whisper Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When one has an abundance of luck and a history of success, one forgets that losing is even an option.

Buzz carries Woody on his back. He used to weigh nothing, but now he weighs less than nothing. He'd been cut open, something essential removed, and there was no getting it back. 

Turning his head slightly, he can feel Woody’s breath against his cheek. He sighs with relief, thinking, _good, he’s still alive._ He can also see his face. Asleep, chin nestled comfortably on his shoulder, he looks just like a child.

Bo walks at his side, staff in one hand, Woody's hat in the other. A breeze ruffles her cape, and she tugs it tighter around herself, as if chilled.

“How did it happen?” she asks after a while, breaking the silence between them. 

“How’d what happen?” 

“You and Woody.”

“Oh.” Buzz hesitates, trying to think of a way to explain. “It’s kind of a long story. Bonnie was playing with us, and—” 

“Bonnie?” 

“Our new kid.”

“Is she nice?”

Buzz pictures Bonnie's chocolatey hair, her downy eyelashes, her rosy cheeks, her boundless imagination. A smile flits over his face. “You’d love her.”

Bo is quiet for a moment. Buzz thinks she’s going to say something hopeful and reassuring. He keeps forgetting how much she’s changed. “Life is more than just playtime, you know.”

“Toys were made for playtime.”

Bo taps Woody’s back where, not an hour ago, his pullstring had been, doing it lightly enough that he isn’t disturbed. “Well, what d’you think _Bonnie_ is gonna do when she realizes her cowboy dolly is missing his voice box?” 

Buzz opens his mouth, then closes it. He has no idea. 

“Not to mention she won’t have any idea how it happened,” Bo continues. “And when he just shows up after being missing for weeks? What on earth is she going to think?”

Buzz stays optimistic. “Humans can rationalize anything. She probably won’t even notice. She’s four.”

Bo sighs at the ground, clearly not sharing his view. “I never should have come back.” Her delicate eyebrows crease. “Y’know, I half suspected he’d have found someone else by now. Really, the only surprise was that it was you.” 

“Didn’t you meet anyone else, after all this time?” Buzz imagines porcelain Little Boy Blues and plastic Combat Carls. He imagines them falling for Bo peep, with her lovely curls and pink lips, until they realize what a firecracker she is (something that never intimidated Woody) and get scared away.

A faint, sardonic smile flickers over Bo’s face, as if she can read his thoughts. “Yeah,” she says, “but they all had the same problem.” 

“What’s that?” 

“They didn’t have a pair of busted old cowboy boots with ‘Andy’ written on them.” 

Which is Buzz’s cue to laugh or at least smile, but he doesn’t. “He’s gonna bounce back, you know. He gave a part of himself to save us. Because he loves us. He would never regret that, and you and I are gonna make sure he’s okay.” 

Bo’s smile fades. “Not me. I think I’ve done enough damage to last a lifetime. I’m seeing you two home, and then I’m leaving.” 

“Leaving?” The words come as a shock. “Where?” 

“I’ll find someplace. Wherever the wind blows.” 

“You can’t.” Buzz stops dead in his tracks, staring at her in disbelief. “You have to be here when he wakes up. He needs you.” 

“He doesn’t.” 

“You’re not serious.” 

Bo stops walking, turns around and faces him. “Don’t you get it? He’s stuck in the past. Does he seem happy to you? He still talks about Andy, doesn’t he?” 

Buzz feels a chill. How did she know that? “Well, of course, but—” 

“He’s old, Buzz. Do you know toys’ memories start to fade after a while? We’re not immortal.” 

“Well, we’re not trash, either,” Buzz says defensively. Bo rolls her eyes in frustration.

“I never said we were! I’m just saying, he doesn’t have a lot of time left, and—”

The look that comes over his face is heartbreaking. “What?” 

“No, not like— look, I’m not saying we should be picking flowers for his grave, it’s just— it’s time, okay?” She raises her voice and gestures dramatically, as if Buzz isn’t getting the point fast enough. “Time to move on, to see the big picture. There’s so much more to life than being stuck in some kid’s room. There’s a whole world out there!” 

“Yeah. A world for humans, not toys. I learned that lesson a long time ago— Woody’s the one who taught me.” He hesitates, then adds, “and Bonnie is not just ‘some kid.’ I love her.” 

“Well, he doesn’t.” Bo gestures toward Woody, then crosses her arms. “And neither do I.” 

“So, what? You want him to go with you?” 

Bo hesitates. “In another life, maybe,” she says finally. “But he’s made it clear enough that’s not what he wants.” She shrugs somewhat bitterly. “I thought I was his soul mate. I was wrong.” 

“You almost got him killed.” 

“It was an accident.” 

“You’re talking crazy.” 

“I am not!” 

“Listen to me. No one is going to die, no one is losing their memory, and no one is leaving. Family sticks together.” He falters, and the words tumble out before he can stop them. “What happened to you? How could you have changed so much?” 

She studies him, her face a mask. For a second, he actually thinks she’s going to answer.

“Goodbye, Buzz,” she says. Her cape swishes as she turns around, and not once does she look back. All Buzz has left is a vague sense of regret, a sleeping cowboy, a grappling hook to get to Bonnie’s window, and very little time to waste. The streetlamps are already turning off. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The problem with me getting a lot of attention/praise is that it encourages me to do whatever the flip I want, such as defy stereotypical conventions or write really sad/emotional stuff even though I know you all like sweet, romantic stuff better. :/ And don’t get me wrong, I love fluff as much as the next person, just as well as I understand that conventions are there for a reason. But this is ao3 and I don’t have to conform to any of that, necessarily. So I usually don’t. The results are mixed.
> 
> With that said, my primary purpose here is to write something people will enjoy reading. If there’s anything you would like to see within the few remaining chapters I have left, such as an explanation of certain things or perhaps just more kissing (both of which I’m probably going to try to work in anyway), don’t be afraid to say so. ;)
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!


	16. Buster Keaton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sign language to be prominently featured in upcoming chapters.

The grass under Bonnie's window is wet with dew. Buzz knows Woody will be distraught if he gets any stains on his jeans (Buzz's own white plastic legs are covered with vivid streaks of shamrock green), so he sets him down, gently, on a heart-shaped stepping stone. Woody's soft body slumps forward, his head drooping; he's still asleep. Buzz carefully nudges him into a sitting position.

"Sheriff. Wake up."

Woody's eyebrows crease, and he shakes his head. _No._

"We're home."

No response. Buzz can hardly blame him. Once the surgery was over, Woody had done his best to act normal— worrying him and Bo was the last thing he wanted to do— but it quickly became clear he couldn't stand on his own. His legs were as limp as spaghetti noodles, as useless as a holster without a gun. He tried to take a step and immediately fell. The look on his face when it happened is not one Buzz will soon forget. Graciously, he’d offered to carry him. 

“Don’t you want to see Bonnie?” 

Woody swats Buzz lightly across the face. _Five more minutes,_ the gesture seems to say. Buzz is amused. He thinks about kissing him awake, but in the end, he simply takes him by the shoulders and shakes him until his eyes open. They look at each other, Buzz patient and smiling, Woody drowsy and annoyed.

It’s a minute before Buzz realizes he’s waiting for Woody to say something. His smile slips, and he clears his throat. 

“Are you okay? How do you feel?”

Woody hesitates, then shrugs. He rubs his eyes, then drags a hand down his face, grimacing in that signature, over-the-top way that he has. Buzz can’t help but smile again. 

“How are the stitches holding?” 

Woody nods. _Fine._

“Maybe I should take a look.” 

Woody turns around obligingly, yawning as he does so _._ Buzz inspects the neat line of miniscule, toy-made stitches. Impeccable, barely visible, they would hold for a long time. 

“Looks good.” Buzz hesitates. “Now, can I get you to smile?” 

The corners of Woody’s mouth lift almost imperceptibly— a rueful expression. Buzz tries again. 

“Come on. You can do better than that.” He puts his hands on Woody’s waist, flirts with tickling him. It’s more than enough. Woody’s entire body jerks, and he shoves him away, laughing without sound. Buzz sighs with relief. 

“Now, let’s see if your legs feel any better.”

They link hands, and Buzz pulls Woody to his feet. He wobbles, but doesn’t fall. His smile widens and he gestures as if to say, ta-da! Buzz smiles back, hands him his hat.

“Well done,” he says. 

Woody bows. _Thank you, thank you._ He straightens, flipping his hat expertly onto his head. Buzz resists the urge to applaud. 

“Let’s go inside,” he says, turning to throw the grappling hook at Bonnie’s window. Woody grabs his shoulder, spins him around, and shakes his head. Buzz blinks, confused. 

“What is it?”

Woody shakes his head again, points at the window, then at himself. Buzz frowns, not understanding. He lowers the grappling hook. “What’s wrong?”

Woody makes a series of gestures, then appears frustrated when Buzz is unable to read them.

“What are you trying to say?”

Woody rolls his eyes, gestures again. Buzz is at a loss. He tries to think of a solution. 

“Maybe you can write it. Find a stick or something.” 

But there are no sticks, and anyway, there’s no dirt to write in— just grass. Woody massages his forehead as if he has a headache, then points to himself, and then to the ground. His eyes are full of meaning.

“You want to stay down here?”

Woody nods, then points at the sky. Buzz looks up as if the answer might be written there, but, of course, it isn’t. He starts to run out of patience. 

“Woody, you can’t stay down here. It’s gonna be light soon. If we don’t get you upstairs now, we’ll have to wait for tonight. You really wanna spend all day hiding in the backyard?” 

Assuming he’s made his point, Buzz turns to throw the grappling hook. Woody seizes him and spins him around, nodding vehemently. _Yes._  

“What do you mean, yes? You want to stay in the backyard?” 

More vehement nodding. 

“Why?” 

More inane gestures. Buzz actually reaches out and grabs Woody’s hands, stopping him mid-frantic-arm-motion. 

“This is nonsense. Just come upstairs. Whatever you’re trying to say, you can write it down on paper.”

Woody yanks his hands free and shakes his head. _No._  

“What do you mean, no?” 

Woody points at the ground. 

“I don’t know what you mean. Can you just— ugh!” Buzz resists the urge to lose his temper. “This is nonsense! We’re running out of time.”

Woody turns his back, folds his arms, and sticks his nose in the air. 

“What’s your problem? Are you worried Bonnie’s gonna freak out when she sees you like this?” 

Woody immediately lights up. He whirls around, seizes his shoulders, and shakes him, vigorously nodding. _Yes!_  

“Well, you can’t just live in the backyard.” 

Woody holds up one finger. 

“Just for one night?” Buzz finally starts to get it, but he’s not enthused. “Woody, that’s a terrible idea.” 

Woody swats Buzz’s cheek again. Anything harder would be a slap. Buzz grabs his hand and points at him, his annoyance mounting. “Stop that!” 

Woody raises his eyebrows. They hold each other’s gazes for several seconds. Then Buzz sighs, letting him go. “Why don’t we just hide you upstairs?” 

Woody points at the ground. 

“Woody, you can’t. I know you. You don’t know how to deal with bugs or dirt or rain. Listen. I’ll make sure you’re hidden so well, Bonnie will never find you. Then we can figure out what to do about...” 

Buzz trails off, guilt flooding him. He lowers his gaze, doing his best to ignore the look of curiosity Woody gives him. 

“Well, you know,” he mumbles. “Your voice.”

Woody looks dubious. Buzz takes his hands. 

“Trust me,” he says. “I’m going to fix this.” 

Woody bites his lip. He seems to be mulling it over. Then he points at the road. Buzz glances at it, his brow furrowing. “What? You want to leave?”

Woody shakes his head, puffs his chest out and mimes holding something that could be a scepter or a rod. Buzz shakes his head, failing to understand. Woody takes Buzz’s hand, turns it over, uses his fingertip to trace two letters onto the palm: Bo. 

“Oh.” Buzz falters, feeling suddenly numb. “You want to know where Bo is?” 

Woody nods, looking anxious. Buzz turns away, doing his best to sound unconcerned. “She’ll be back. Now, come on. I’m not leaving you down here.”


	17. Not Intact

Bonnie isn’t in her bed. “Nightmares,” Jessie explains, and Buzz understands right away. When Bonnie has nightmares—not often, but sometimes—she climbs into her mother’s bed and sleeps there instead. Her pink bedsheets are rumpled, indicating how she’d tossed and turned before waking up.

“She didn’t take you with her?” Buzz asks. Jessie shrugs, not looking him in the eye.

“She took Buttercup.” Her arms are folded, her posture rigid and unfriendly. He’s seen that look on her face before, on rare occasions, back when they used to date.

“You’re mad at me,” he says.

“I knew I should have gone with you.”

“There was nothing you could have done.”

“Nothing?” She rounds on him, pushes him in the chest. “I may be a girl, Mr. Big Strong Space Ranger, but I ain’t useless.”

Buzz’s face colors, and he hastens to apologize. “No, that’s not what I—”

“What are we gonna do now, huh? And where’s Bo, anyway? This whole thing is her fault.”

“I think she’s gone for good. Don’t tell Woody.”

“I don’t see the point in lying. He’ll find out eventually.” She shoves him again, hard, surprising him; if he was a human, he’d have bruises. “How could you do this, Buzz? You were supposed to get him home safe. That means _with_ all his body parts! ”

He shushes her. On the floor, a little distance away, the others are crowded around Woody, taking turns running their hands over the stitches on his back, asking him questions he can’t answer (“are you okay?” “Does it hurt?”), and, once that proves futile, trying to make him feel better.

“Voice boxes are overrated,” Dolly says. “I always preferred the strong, silent type, anyway.”

“Well, I don’t know about you guys,” Mr. Potato Head says, “but I think this is great news. No more staff meetings. No more of him bossing us around.”

Woody smiles and rolls his eyes while the others laugh. Potato Head goes on. “I won’t miss that grating voice.” He affects a Southern accent and an exaggerated cowboy swagger. “Howdy, howdy, howdy. I’m Woody!”

More laughter. From his perch atop Bull's-Eye, Woody leans over and steals Potato Head's mouth. Potato Head jumps up and down, trying to grab it back, but Woody holds it out of his reach.

Buzz and Jessie stand atop the desk, watching. Outside of the window, the sky is turning light. 

“Is there any way we can get it back?” Jessie asks quietly.

“If there is, I’ll find it.”

“I don’t care what you say. If you’re goin’ back there, I’m goin’ with you.”

The little green aliens wrestle Woody off of the horse, and Potato Head snatches his mouth back. Bull’s-Eye licks Woody’s face until he laughs silently, pushing him away.

Jessie hesitates. "Did it hurt him? When they... you know."

Buzz shakes his head. "He didn't feel anything."

"It ain't fair. He ain't never done nothin' to deserve this. I tell you, if I ever see that flyblown floozy again, I'll give 'er what for."

"Bo didn't mean for any of this to happen. She just made a mistake."

"Well, her mistake done cost us dear, and now where is she at? Nowhere to be found. I tell ya, it ain't fair, none of it."

Buzz smiles. She shoves him again, gently this time. "What are you smilin' at?"

"I don't know. Nothing."

She hesitates, then smiles, too. "You're a jackass."

"I know." He takes her hand. "But I'm going to fix this, if it's the last thing I do. I promise."

She hugs him. Her smell is familiar and reassuring— vinyl and yarn. They break apart when Hamm yells at them. "Are you two lovebirds about done? We're still waiting for an explanation, you know."

"Why don't you ask the sheriff?" Buzz calls back.

"Oh, why didn't I think of that?" Hamm turns to Woody. "Hey, Sheriff, wanna tell us all what happened?"

Woody makes a series of gestures that no one can understand. They all yell out guesses, each more ridiculous than the last— he was abducted by aliens, he was kidnapped by ninjas, he fell down a rabbit hole into Wonderland.

"Hey, Sheriff, how bout this: blink once if Buzz is a useless hunk of plastic with legs."

"Blink once if Buzz has the IQ of a wooden chair."

"Blink once if Buzz is a glorified blinky red light bulb."

Buzz climbs to the floor with Jessie close behind him. "All right, everyone, chit-chat time is over," he says. "Let's get in the toy chest. Bonnie's mom will be waking her up for school any minute."

There’s a chorus of complaints. Jessie hugs Woody from the side and refuses to let go. Slinky nudges Woody's hand until he pets him.

"I'm gonna miss the sound of your voice, Sheriff," Slinky says. "It had that special quality, makes a feller feel safe and at home, even when home is far away."

Woody scritches behind the dog's ears. His eyes say, _thanks, old friend._


	18. Love Letter

Sign language isn’t as hard as Buzz expected it to be. With the help of Bonnie’s mother’s computer, he and Woody have the alphabet down, as well as several basic words and phrases (“hello,” “I love you,” “I’m happy,” “I’m sad,” “are you okay?” “I’m fine”), within a few nights. The main problem is Jessie. As it turns out, her attention span is remarkably short. After a certain point, she takes to insisting that, with her, Woody simply write things down.

Buzz tries talking to her about it. "He's your brother. You need to make more of an effort. Don't you think this is hard enough on him as it is?"

“I can't do it, Buzz,” she says. She pretends to pick lint out of Bull’s-Eye’s mane as an excuse to avoid his gaze. “All these signs and gestures, they make my head spin. A lot of them are so much alike, I can't keep 'em straight.”

"You just need to try harder."

"Oh, what's the point, anyway?" She goes on the defensive, jutting out her chin. "I thought we were gonna get his doohickey back. He'll be talking again in no time. Y'all are acting like this is gonna be forever."

"I promised I’d fix him, and I meant it. But what about the meantime?"

"Ain't no meantime. When are we gonna do something, Buzz? An' I mean somethin' useful, not this sign language nonsense. A quarter of the toys in this room don't even have hands."

Buzz sighs. She’s making this more difficult than it needs to be. "Jessie..."

"Don't 'Jessie' me. I'm serious. When are we going to fix him?"

"As soon as I think of a plan."

"Plan, nothing!" She mounts the horse and starts to leave, then stops and turns around. "Y'know what? Until you can think of something worthwhile to say, don't bother talking to me at all. This whole thing is your fault."

He bites the inside of his cheek, holding back his anger. "That's not fair."

"Whatever."

He watches her go, unable to remember the last time he's seen her this angry. A quick glance over his shoulder tells him the others are thinking the same thing.

"Attention deficit hyperactivity disorder," Hamm says helpfully. "Symptoms include but are not limited to aggression, impulsivity, irritability, lack of restraint, and difficulty concentrating. Doesn’t pair well with post-traumatic stress. We oughta get her a perscription."

"Where's Woody?" Buzz asks. He has enough on his plate without worrying about Jessie's laundry list of neurological issues.

"I last saw him dictating yet another heartfelt missive to his lost lady love," Pricklepants declares, gesturing elaborately towards the bookshelf. Sure enough, Woody is there by himself, scrawling with magic marker in the afternoon sunlight.

"He must've written a hundred of those by now," Trixie says. "'I love you, I forgive you, I'm sorry, please come home...'"

"He oughta face the facts," Potato Head scoffs. "Bo's gone for good."

"Except we all thought that before, didn't we?" Slinky points out. "And she came back."

"Yeah, well, if it happens twice, I'll eat my hat."

Which would have been a good time for Bo to show up unexpectedly, just like she had before. All heads turn hopefully towards the window, but no Bo appears.

Buzz sighs. “Jessie’s right. This is all my fault.” 

“Don’t beat yourself up,” Buttercup says, nudging him. “Things could be worse.” 

“Yeah? How?” 

“At least no one hit your reset this time, space ranger. Or should I say El Buzzo?”

It was a joke, but Buzz doesn’t laugh along with the others. He thinks about joining Woody, but in the end, he climbs onto the desk and sits facing the window. He needs to be alone.

After he’s been mulling his thoughts over for a while, a pair of hands covers his eyes from behind. He stiffens in surprise.

“Woody?”

Of course it’s Woody. He sits next to Buzz and smiles at him. Buzz smiles back, his cheeks turning pink. 

“How are you feeling, sheriff?”

Under Woody’s arm is a folded piece of paper. At first, Buzz assumes it’s another letter to Bo. Then Woody hands it to him, and he spies the name written on it in neat, twelfth-grade penmanship: Buzz Lightyear.

“For me?” he asks, startled. Woody nods. Buzz looks at him for a moment, then opens the letter, his heartbeat quickening its pace.

 

Dear partner, 

I've never been much good with words, and I guess that’s part of the reason why I’ve always had trouble telling you how I feel. It's funny. Right when I finally figured out what I wanted to say, I lost the means to do it. 

But you know me. I never give up. If it takes the rest of my life, I'll find another way to tell you. That's a promise.

Yours (for infinity and beyond),

Woody

P.S. Close your eyes.

 

Buzz looks at Woody. "Why?"

Woody makes no signs. Buzz closes his eyes. He feels the press of Woody's lips against his, and his heart flutters. Vinyl. There's no sweeter taste.

Just as Woody is deepening the kiss, Buzz jumps to his feet. Woody's eyes widen in surprise, and he falls forward. Instinctively, he looks at the door, thinking maybe Buzz heard someone's footsteps approaching, but there's nobody there.

Confused, straightening his hat, Woody looks at Buzz for an explanation, but Buzz offers none. Indeed, he doesn't even look at him. He runs to the window, and it's not until it's too late that Woody realizes what he's doing. His eyes widen in panic; he scrambles to his feet and bolts forward, a hand outstretched to grab his friend, stop him, but his fingertips come up just a millimeter short. Buzz vaults out of the window onto the roof, and from the roof to the yard, and the yard to the sidewalk. 

In broad daylight.

Woody stares in horror. Part of him has the urge to follow, but his instincts hold him back. He looks over his shoulder, casting about the room in vain for Jessie or someone who can help, but he can't see her, and anyway, he can't yell to get her attention. He could try to sign it, but only Buzz has made enough progress in sign to understand what he's saying. He could write it, but there's not enough time. Even as he deliberates, Buzz is getting away. 

Helpless, Woody watches his best friend disappear. He has a sinking feeling he knows exactly where he's going.


	19. Heartstrings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buzz is determined to set things right. The only question is how he’s going to do it.

Gabby reads the letter, then flicks her eyes up to Buzz. “What’s this?”

Buzz makes his voice as diplomatic as possible. If he wants to make things right, he’s going to need to play nice. “What does it look like?” 

Her mouth twitches, as if she can't decide whether to laugh or not. Buzz can feel his heart beating fast. 

"You must be joking," she says after a while. Buzz shakes his head. Visibly amused, she hands the letter back to him. "Sorry, but the answer is no.”

Buzz folds the letter and tucks it under his arm. He tries to think of something to say that would convince her, since it seems his original plan of pulling her heartstrings won’t work. Nothing helpful comes to mind. Instead, he says, “why are you still here? I thought you were trying to find an owner.”

She gives him a cold smile. “Goodbye, Buzz.”

“I'm not leaving until you acquiesce to my request.”

“Then make yourself comfortable.” She starts to walk away, then pauses. "And, as long as you're staying, would you mind untying the boys for me? They're not so good with knots."

Buzz looks over his shoulder. The Bensons, all four of them, are tied up in the Christmas lights he'd found in the basement. "If I let them go, they'll attack me," he says.

"Not if you behave, they won't. I already got what I wanted from your friend. What reason do I have to hurt you?"

"I thought you couldn't abide space toys."

"Look at it this way— I owe you one. Not _that_ , of course, but you have nothing to fear from my associates. Just don't try anything funny."

"Funny, how?"

"Oh, you know. Don't wear out your welcome. And don't let's talk about Woody anymore. Agreed?"

She doesn’t wait for him to respond. He watches her disappear, the loop of her pullstring— Woody’s pullstring— glinting in the moonlight from the center of her back. Mocking him.

He approaches the Bensons. As it turns out, they’re quite manageable one at a time. It’s when they’re in a group that they pose a threat, particularly if they manage to catch their opponent by surprise— a mistake he was careful not to make twice.

“All right, gentlemen,” he says. “From now on, we’re all going to get along. Understood?” 

They exchange glances, then look at him blankly. Buzz figures that’s the closest thing to a "yes" that he’s going to get. He undoes their restraints. When they stand up, he braces himself, but no one attacks. They just stare at him.

“Right, well,” he says awkwardly. “So long.”

He walks away, tiny droplets of sweat popping up on the back of his neck once he realizes they’re following him. It doesn’t look like they mean any harm; they toddle in his footsteps like ducklings, stopping when he stops, always maintaining their distance. He thinks about telling them cut it out, but in the end, he settles on ignoring them. He has bigger fish to fry.

Gabby is in front of one of the mirrors, brushing her hair. Buzz climbs onto a low shelf and sits down.

“You were made in the sixties?” he asks, conversationally.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Ever catch this old program called Woody’s Round-Up?”

Gabby smirks, but says nothing. Buzz remembers what she’d said about not mentioning the sheriff anymore. He changes tactics. “How long have you lived in this store?”

She gives him a warning glare. Sore subject. He takes a hint and closes his mouth for a while. To his surprise, she breaks the silence first.

“Toys don’t have genders, not the way humans do. But back in my day, they had a word for your type.”

He frowns, startled. “What type is that?”

She smirks and says nothing.

“There’s nothing wrong with two men being in love,” he says, “if that’s what you’re implying.” When she still doesn’t reply, he grows annoyed. “What, are you against that sort of thing?”

“Oh, not at all. I just think it’s ever so funny.” 

“There’s nothing funny about it.” 

She sighs, fluffs her hair once more, then turns to face him. "You're cute, Buzz. Truly. Under different circumstances, I would've been real eager to kill you. Salvage the batteries. Turn your helmet into a fish bowl. Mount your wings on my wall."

She looks in the mirror again, but Buzz has the feeling she doesn't need to see the look of uneasiness on his face to know that it's there. He swallows and manages, "so why don't you?"

"The world wasn't fair to either of us. I won't apologize for what I did, and if I could go back, I'd do the same thing again. But I don't enjoy being the villain of this story."

“I find that hard to believe,” he dares to say, and waits for her to give her puppets the order to tear him limb from limb. She doesn’t.

"I have no interest in hurting you any more than I already have, okay? Let’s leave it at that."

Buzz is silent, pondering this. He glances towards the floor. Just beneath his boots, the Bensons are gathered in a circle, staring up at him. Watching him. His skin crawls, and he mutters, half to himself, half to Gabby, “where’d you get such creepy servants?”

“The attic, of course.”

“But why do they listen to you?”

“They like me. They were a bit shy, at first, but to be honest, they’re quite impressionable. Must come with the territory of having strings and whatnot. Seems they’ve taken a liking to you, too, actually.”

“Great,” Buzz says unenthusiastically, then feels slightly guilty. He waves at the dummies. They stare at him blankly.

An idea pops into his head.

“Maybe we can work out some sort of a trade,” he begins, cautiously.

"What are you talking about?"

"The voice box. Let’s trade. What do you want for it?"

Gabby simply laughs. Buzz doesn’t give up. “I can get you another one,” he says. “A better one.”

"No, you can't."

"Woody's voice box wasn't technically made for you. There might be complications. You should have a voice box that was made for Gabby Gabby."

"Gabby Gabby isn't in production anymore."

"But if I found one, would you take it?"

"You're gonna find some random Gabby Gabby, cut her chest open, and steal part of her? The heroic Buzz Lightyear? I can't picture it."

"I'll do it. I'd do anything to fix the mistake I made."

"And what mistake was that?"

"I let the man I love come to harm." He takes out the letter and opens it, gazing morosely at Woody’s impeccable handwriting. "God only knows what I'd be without Woody. I owe him everything— at the very least, I owe him this. Please, you have to help me."

"Why should I help a worthless, common Buzz Lightyear?"

"You're already fixed,” he says solemnly. “Any day now, some child will find you here and take you home and love you. But you'll never be able to love yourself if you don't do the right thing."

She sighs deeply, smooths her skirt in the mirror, tilts her head this way and that, searching for imperfections. She turns around to get a look at her back, at the pullstring she'd stolen from someone else. "You wouldn't let me down, would you, Buzz?"

"I'd die first."

"This hypothetical doll. Where exactly do you plan on finding her? The landfill?"

"There are other antique shops. Websites. Ebay."

"You got a credit card, Buzz?"

"I'll figure something out."

"I won’t wait for you. You'll have to steal the thing and make it back before someone buys me. If you come back and I'm gone, you'll know you failed."

"I won't fail." He stands up, his heart pounding. "Does this mean you'll trade?"

"No."

He jumps down from the shelf, landing right next to her, and raises his voice in anger. "Why not?"

She looks down at him, smiling coldly. "You hero types. It's always "the right thing" this, "the right thing" that. Tell me, Buzz. Is it the right thing to hurt another innocent toy? Are you prepared to do that? To steal from her, damage her forever? I think not."

He curls his fists, so determined, he doesn’t even notice he’s wrinkling the letter that’s still in his hand, almost crumpling it into a ball. "I already told you, I'll do anything!"

"Then prove it. Prove you're not restricted by some arbitrary moral code. Prove you’ll do whatever it takes."

He makes an exasperated gesture. "How am I supposed to do that?"

She gives him this cunning look, her eyes glimmering, and for a second, he expects her to say, “figure it out for yourself.” Instead, she puts an arm around his shoulders, leans in, and starts to whisper in his ear.


	20. Okay Now

Bonnie runs her fingers over the neat line of stitches on Woody’s back. Her mother asks her what’s wrong. “Nothing,” she says quickly. Later, once she’s alone in her room, she’ll ask Woody if he’s okay, and if he was scared of the evil witches that kidnapped him. She’ll undo all the bad spells that were put on him (the get-better potion is made from mushrooms, fairy dust, and dragon scales, and it tastes icky, but she makes him drink it anyway— it’s for his own good) and tape a length of yarn, the end tied in a loop that she had to practice many times in order to get right (her father had offered to do it for her, but she adamantly insisted on learning it herself), to the center of his back as a replacement. It doesn't trigger a phrase or reel back in after she tugs on it, but it makes Woody feel better just to know that it's there. It makes his friends feel better, too. She doesn't want them to worry about him; he's their leader, and it's important that he's okay. "Buzz missed you most of all," she tells him. It’s true. Buzz had looked for him everywhere, not just on Earth but on every planet he could find.

When Kimber has her sleepover party, Bonnie wants to bring both Woody and Buzz, because Woody is scared to be away from her and Buzz is scared to be away from Woody. But her mom says she can only bring one toy, and since Bonnie can't explain to her all that happened (grown-ups don't believe in witches or magic) she does the only thing she can think to do: she puts Woody in her special treasure chest, with her bird feathers and seaglass and locket, and hides the chest in a top-secret place where no witches can get to it. She would’ve hid Buzz there, too, but she can’t find him anywhere— probably she left him out by the swingset again, but she doesn’t have time to check because her mom is calling her, saying it’s time to go, we don’t want to be late. She whispers, “I’ll be back soon, don’t worry!” Then she runs to her room, grabs Dolly and her green backpack with her pajamas and toothbrush already inside, and runs downstairs.

Kimber is nice. She has a pet hamster and an Elsa doll that sings. 

 

*

 

It’s dark in the box. Woody reaches blindly for the string, has to feel around until his fingertips brush against it, then closes his hand around it and rips it off. He’s mad at Bonnie, and he could kick himself for it— what kind of toy gets mad at his child? She’s never done a single thing wrong, and the minute she found him she hugged him tightly and didn’t put him down for days. She didn’t care that his pullstring was gone. All she cared about was that he was safe and in her arms again.

Then she locked him in a box, right after Buzz ran off to look for trouble, and now Woody is stuck here and can’t do a thing to help him. He never even got the chance to tell his friends what happened. He isn’t sure where Bonnie hid him, but as he waits for what feels like hours and no one comes, he figures he’ll probably be indisposed for a while.

He can barely move— his glass case back at the shop had been more spacious than this. He can’t even sit up. 

Being a toy is awful frustrating, sometimes. Even a newfangled, gadgety toy like Buzz would be challenged to get out of a situation like this.

He curls up on his side. One of Bonnie's bird feathers tickles his nose and makes him sneeze; he pushes it aside. Why does she collect them, anyway? They're probably riddled with germs.

He misses his voice. Now would be a good time to call for help, but he can't. He can't even talk to himself to fill the silence. It's dark and he can't see anything. He's disoriented and alone and somewhere out there Buzz is risking his neck on his behalf and he's probably going to die because Gabby warned them that's what would happen if they ever showed their faces there again. 

He misses Bo. It hits him suddenly, that this was his last chance with her and he screwed it up royally, and now she's gone forever, only this time, he's really, truly never going to see her again. Never again will he make her laugh. Never again will he share with her all of his hopes and fears. Never again will he feel her kiss on his cheek, on his lips. Never again will he hear her voice, as comforting and familiar as being held in Andy's arms.

A noise escapes his throat. Toys can't cry, but some human instinct in his brain desperately longs to. He waits for the feeling to pass. It's like a knife scraping away at the inside of his chest, emptying him of everything that makes him who he is. Oh, he misses her so badly. What he wouldn't do to go back in time.

It occurs to him that maybe toys weren't meant to live this long. He wonders, with a sudden burst of alarm, if this pain is enough to kill him. He's not a scientist or a doctor; he doesn't know exactly what it takes to kill a toy. Can he die of sadness? Of being abandoned? Suddenly, he feels the dire need to escape the box; he can't explain it,  but he's certain if he doesn't get out now, right now, he'll die. He rolls over, starts kicking and pounding the walls, his mouth open as if shouting, but of course, no sound comes out, and he curses himself and his foolishness even more. 

He's going to die. He's going to die in this stupid box, and Buzz is going to die, and oh my god, why, oh, not like this, please, not like this—

"Cowboy? Is that you?"

Buzz!

He freezes for a moment (it’s impossible— could he really be alive?), then pounds on the insides of the box, willing his thoughts to be heard: I’m here! I’m right here! To his relief, footsteps come closer, and he hears Buzz’s voice just outside, like an angel’s voice. 

“I got you, cowboy, don’t worry.” 

The lock clicks. The lid opens. Woody springs out of the box and throws his arms around Buzz’s neck. Buzz steadies him. “Whoa. Easy, partner. Everything’s okay now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! This work is now part one of a series. Part two will be uploaded in its completion before mid-June. Its purpose is to answer a few questions and tie up several loose ends. I meant to end things with this last chapter, but there’s simply not enough room for all I want to do. :/
> 
> Every one of you is much loved and appreciated! 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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